Nightmares of Reality
by scion.of.morbidity
Summary: The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind. NOT a Wrong Boy Who Lived fic. NO Neglected!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

_**Edited: 30/1/12**_

**Title: Nightmares of Reality**

**Author: Claire (.morbidity)**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Family/Tragedy**

**Pairings: **_Probably_ no pairings. I think. A part from the obvious ones – e.g. between married couples. But a** Pairing Warning: **none of the relationships will be nice. They'll probably all come crashing down. The main ones that I've figured out are LE/JP and LE/SS.

In case you were wondering, no: there will not be a Harry/Lily pairing.

**Warnings: **Possibly eventual murder, insanity, character death, torture, but for the first chapter nothing spectacular, and naturally spoilers

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to JKR, especially the first scene where I've copied almost straight from Deathly Hallows, and the Ollivander's scene, where I copied from Philosopher's Stone and the Hogwarts letter, also from PS.

**Extended Summary: **The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.

_-NoR-_

So, here's my first chaptered fic. I don't like the current name, and will probably eventually change it. I'll probably also change the summary as the plot develops, so be warned. Other than that, enjoy!

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 1**_  
>He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand… and there she stood, a child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the cot behind her, where the other lay sleeping, and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding them from sight she hoped to be chosen instead…<em>

"_Not my sons, not my sons, please not Harry and Ethan!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…"_

"_Not my sons, please no, take me, kill me instead -"_

"_This is my last warning -"_

"_Not Harry or Ethan! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not my sons! Not my sons! Please – I'll do anything -"_

_Sighing, he gave up on reasoning with the silly woman, flicking her away from the cot and stunning her. He could have killed her, but as the father was out he had been unable to kill him, and he much wished for Severus to be rewarded in some sense for his loyalty… If he could not kill James Potter, it would be prudent to leave Lily Potter alive…_

_Besides, he could feel the pleasure mount inside him at her horrified face when she discovered his mercy; when she had to tell her beloved husband her failure to protect their children…_

_The red light flashed around the room and she dropped to the floor. The children had not cried all this time: one lay still sleeping while the other, the one with green eyes, could stand, clutching the bars of the cot, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing –_

_He focused on the sleeping child, pointed the wand very carefully into the boy's face, willing to deal with this one first: he wanted to see it happen, the destruction of these two, inexplicable dangers. The child with green eyes began to cry, waking the other, whose brown eyes whimpered before following the other's lead: the green eyed child had seen that he was not James. He did not like them crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones' whining in the orphanage, and now both boys were starring at him, bawling their eyes out. He absently wondered which was which. 'Harry and Ethan' the mother had called them. Brown eyes or green eyes… He wondered the name of the one he was about to kill-_

"Avada Kedavra_!"_

_And then he broke: he was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the children and mother were trapped, the green eyed child screaming while the other lay passed out, but far away… far away…_

"Mummy!" Harry Potter sat bolt upright, sweating, screaming. The flash of green, the flash of red, the broken feeling…

No, no, no…

It was the nightmare. Just that same old nightmare. Just a dream, just a dream…

Lily came rushing into her son's room, prepared to fend off any beast from a wet bed to a monster under the bed to a Death Eater, almost hoping that for once it wouldn't be the same old-

"Mummy, I had another nightmare."

Harry's mother seemed to sigh, resigning herself to the fact that a screaming Harry would only ever mean a nightmared Harry. Her job now was to comfort her terrified son. Climbing onto the bed, she wrapped her arms around his five-year-old head, rocking him back and forth as she hummed a haunting lullaby she couldn't quite remember the origins or lyrics of.

As she finished the last notes, Harry realised that he had stopped shaking. He wasn't surprised. He and his mother had been through this act so many times the lines came naturally.

"The same?" his mother's voice was breathy after the nodded into her chest. Lily wasn't surprised. Harry hadn't had another nightmare in his life. She'd have thought it would become less scary after having the same nightmare, over and over again, but at least once a week Harry cried out in the night and Lily, coming home late from work, was always the one to rush into his room and calm him down.

At first, she had woken James too. As the boys were at that point sharing a room, they had taken it in turns to calm each boy. But when the nightmares had started, they came every night and they'd thought both boys were having them. But then after a month of specialists both muggle and wizard the nightmares had died down to every two days or so, and they had isolated Harry as the only one having the nightmares. They had tried silencing charms and the like, but Ethan had always seemed to sense his brother's terror. Thankfully when Harry had moved into another room Ethan, at least, had stopped waking.

Lily and James had decided to take it in turns to comfort Harry when he woke up, but James slept like the dead. Lily would wake up anyway, and have to wake James up herself. When she put silencing wards around herself, Harry had turned up in their room in the night and she had pulled him close while James snored away.

So Lily had taken the burden on herself.

It was really the only thing she shared with Harry. During the day, Harry hated reading, hated the classical music she put on for her sons, hated watching her paint and draw on the weekends, hated sitting still and hated just about anything she liked. In fact, during the day it was James Harry latched onto, James he came to when he was hurt, James he begged a new toy from and James he flew with. Lily was too… still for Harry. And Lily was rarely there during the day: she always had work. James was always there for her boys.

Ethan was much the same… except he seemed more interested in her artworks. Art was something Lily had always loved, and something she had never quite given up. She wasn't particularly good, but nonetheless she loved to spend her Sundays outside drawing or painting, with Ethan next to her copying her every move. She drew beautiful things like the trees and forest nearby, or Padfoot and Harry playing by the pond in the garden, or James and Harry flying in the clouds, never quite capturing them.

But then on Monday it was back to work, while James stayed home with maybe Padfoot or Moony (depending on who was working that day) and looked after Harry and Ethan. She would never have expected to trust the _Marauders _with the safety of her sons, however she had imagined them working even less. Even now Moony and Padfoot only worked part-time, sharing the workload between the Monday to Friday week. The two had started off shaky in the world of law, especially when Remus' _condition_ was made known to the public, however now, with the backup of Sirius' fortune from his mother's recent death, their business was flourishing, their firm being one of the most wealthy in the United Kingdom. In fact, their support of magical creatures had done wonders for witches and wizards with 'furry', 'appetite' and various other problems everywhere. Just the other week their firm had for the first time ever, represented a goblin – and won! Lily and the Marauders had celebrated long into the night, drinking too many bottles of firewhiskey to count and thanking heaven that it was a Friday… and that Harry hadn't woken up that night.

During the war, Lily hadn't had time to work. She had been too caught up in the Order and her sons to do anything. However after the shock of Halloween Lily had been offered many positions in high places – mainly due to being the amazing Woman-Who-Lived, along with her Children-Who-Lived. For weeks the public had celebrated her and her sons.

But it hadn't lasted.

Eventually, somehow, the truth had come out. Ethan and Harry had still been loved, of course. But Lily had been treated with suspicion.

Padfoot and Moony had barely won the case when her ability to care for her children had come under scrutiny.

With that, most of the offers had withdrawn, only a few remaining, including one offer for being interviewed once a month at the Witch Weekly. They had offered seven galleons an interview. Lily hadn't been so stupid as to agree.

So now Lily worked at the one place that she had actually been considering that hadn't drawn out. Namely, the research department of the Department of Mysteries. Granted, they demanded ten hours a day for five days a week, with five hours on another day, but they were flexible, allowing her to sleep in after comforting Harry, and leave late enough that she wouldn't be woken up by his screaming, but come home just in time. Another perk of her job was that it allowed her to research that which most concerned her: that night, and Harry's dreams. She was by now one of the top specialists in the Avada Kedavra and curse scars, while she was quite knowledgeable in the science of dreams. Her sleeping patterns might be completely out-of-whack, but hopefully with her research, one day, they wouldn't be.

But for now Lily was holding her son while he drifted in and out of sleep, under the stars charmed like the Great Hall of Hogwarts. This was their connection. The days may be for 'Harry, Ethan and James' and sometimes 'Ethan and Lily', but the nights would always belong to 'Harry and Lily'.

Careful not to wake the sleeping mob of black hair, Lily crept off the bed and out of the room, tracing her fingers over the scar of dead flesh once before she left.

_-NoR-_

Lily lay still in her bed, feeling the rays of desperate morning sun crawling onto her face. She smiled. She could tell this would be a brilliant day. She could hear James in the kitchen making breakfast, a bird chirping outside and the pattering of footsteps outside her room…

"Mum!"

"Mum!"

"We got it!"

"We got the letter!"

"Our Hogwarts letter!"

"We got it!"

"Dad says we can go to Diagon today!"

"We got our Hogwarts letter!"

"Hogwarts!"

"Letter!"

"Diagon!"

Two eleven-year-old boys jumped onto her bed, barely avoiding her legs as they bounced about in excitement. It brought back memories of when she had got her Hogwarts letter. The excitement, the proof, the joy…

The sorrow at leaving her sister…

Brushing thoughts of Petunia aside, she pushed a smile onto her face.

"Your Hogwarts letter, you say?"

"Yeah! So can we go to Diagon Alley?"  
>"Please? Dad said we could!"<p>

"And will Padfoot and Moony come too?"

Shushing her sons, Lily climbed out of bed with two not-quite-eleven-year-olds latched to her sides. Making her way, yawning, to the kitchen she saw a smiling James holding a cup of tea in each hand. Giving a tired smile in return, Lily took the cup, giving him a quick kiss, completely ignoring the twins beside her as she nodded and mhmed her way to the table.

Lily wouldn't wake up properly before nine. Even though she now worked a normal working day, with normal times and all, after spending so many years staying up late and waking up much later, the habit kept. Sipping her tea, she drank in its warmth with eyes closed. Around her she could hear the sounds of morning. James was cooking pancakes in celebration of the Hogwarts letters, while the two boys were raiding the cupboard for ice-cream, nutella and maple syrup. She would never quite forgive Padfoot for introducing the boys to the pancake-toppings, but she figured that at Hogwarts, at least, pancakes weren't served everyday… And the staff were unlikely to be as affected by the puppy dog eyes as she and her husband were. At Hogwarts the boys would be getting good, nutritious foods, as long as they didn't find the kitchens. She made a mental note to remind James _not _to tell the boys were to find them… or give them that stupid map, if he still had it. James swore he didn't, but Lily wouldn't put it past him to 'liberate' it from Filch's office when he came with her when she visited Severus.

"Mummy?" a quiet voice, accompanied with a tug at her pyjamas, caused her to jerk, her tea slopping about. Hissing as a droplet scalded her wrist she quickly put it down, turning with annoyed eyes to the cause of her disturbance.

"Sorry." The little girl flinched back, and Lily's eyes softened.

"It's alright, darling. But what has Mummy told you about speaking to her in the mornings?"

"Don't!" James shouted out across the kitchen, causing the two boys beside him to burst into laughter. They were watching him cook the first pancake intently, waiting for him to flip. Once he had flipped it, the fight would begin on who would get it first.

"Don't be stupid, James. I understand that's hard for you, but please do try. Now, darling, the speaking to Mummy in the mornings rule?"

Ignoring James' mutterings of 'Snape-influenced behaviour' and moving the boys to Durmstrang to avoid the Potions Master, Lily stared at her daughter with what she hoped was reprimanding eyes. She probably did look reprimanding, and quite angry at that, because, as James constantly pointed out, Lily had learnt how to deal out punishments from Severus, but Lily often found it hard to keep up her glare under her children's wide-eyed faces.

"Don't speak to her with hot drinks?" The soft-spoken child whispered, and Lily allowed her face to soften, hugging the strawberry-blonde-haired girl to her chest. Ava had inherited a mix of Lily and Lily's mother's hair it seemed. In the light, it looked like her hair was on fire. However, as she carded her fingers through her daughter's hair, it became obvious the she was James' daughter as well, the hair refusing to sit flat, just growing in a wavy sort of blob, falling in ringlets around her cheeks. Knot after knot, it was as if the hair had never been brushed.

"That's right, darling." Sighing in contentment, Lily leaned back into the hard chair for a second before sitting up straight, three-year-old Ava still in her arms. Watching the boys fight over the silly pancake, Lily smiled. However, they needed to hurry up if they were going to get to Diagon in time before the crowds… and for that matter Ethan need to get his make-up and glamours on.

"Boys…" She spoke up. All eyes focused on her, the pancake forgotten on the plate while James paused from pouring in the batter. "If we're going to get to Diagon Alley early enough, Ethan needs time to put on all the make-up and glamours. Ethan is eating the first pancake."

Harry began to protest immediately, Ethan taking a second to catch onto what had happened before the gloating began.

"But Mum!" Harry yelped, mortally offended, his green eyes screaming. "Ethan had first pancake last time! It's so not fair! Just because he had to get his stupid stuff on… I have to put make-up on too."

But Ethan had already begun piling disgusting amounts of ice-cream and nutella onto his pancake, and James had poured out another.

"Listen to your mother, Harry. Besides, _you _can have glamours put on you without making a big fuss about it."

Ethan continued to gloat, until he heard the bit about himself making a fuss.

"Hey! I don't make a fuss!" This was a complete lie, but it sparked another argument between the boys, allowing Lily snag a bit of plain pancake from Ethan's plate (and Ava to steal the next from James before Harry realised) before she headed into the pantry to fix herself a bowl of muesli. Settling back down at the table, Lily picked up the Hogwarts letter, hastily shoved back into it's envelope.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Messrs. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you both have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed the necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

Minerva McGonagall

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Well, at least they weren't wasting any parchment by sending us two letters. _Lily thought. Looking over the list of equipment, she noted that the history book hadn't changed.

"I hope the book has at least been updated," she mumbled.

"What was that?" James questioned, looking up from the third pancake.

Looking up from the list, Lily answered, "Batty's book is still the history text. I was just saying that I hoped she's updated it since we were kids. Well, I know she has – I remember talking to her about it a few years ago. But that was years ago! And they've changed their cauldron standards again. It's pewter now – remember when there was that one year they insisted everyone bought gold – Severus spent years ranting about the explosions. At least they've finally thought to put a note about nametags – I remember Mum completely forgot, thinking magic would solve any problems involving lost property…" Lily went on talking, while James got himself a piece of toast, and in doing so burning the pancake.

"Dad!" Harry was annoyed, to say the least.

"Sorry, Harry, I got distracted. Now, Ethan since you're done why don't you go get dressed and start putting on your make-up while I make this pancake…"

Lily glanced at the time. They only had half an hour, and she'd only had half her muesli… Taking one last spoonful, she shoved her bowl beside the sink, knowing she would come back to it later.

"No time." She mumbled, her mouth still full of food. Hopefully the kids wouldn't notice. "Harry, we'll cook you some pancakes later – first go get dressed. Ava, don't play with your food. You look done with that. Here, give it to me. James, go have a shower…" after a quick glance at the clock, James followed her lead, putting the batter under a charm to keep it fresh, and running out of the kitchen. Harry drooped up to his bedroom, looking quite morose, while Lily herself wrestled Ava's plate away from her.

"No pancakes for girls who play with their food, Ava… You can have it _later _for goodness' sake. Now, we've got to get you ready." Ignoring her daughter's teary hazel eyes, Lily cleaned the kitchen with a charm, before levitating her daughter to the bathroom.

Being known by every wizard over the age of two, the Potter family, especially after Ava's birth, tried to avoid crowds as much as possible. Having a baby around just wasn't safe when you were being crushed by mobs of people. Lily herself always made sure to dye her hair, powder her face and wear a different style of clothes every time she went out, so people couldn't tell it was her. This lead to her owning a _lot _of clothes, but mostly she just wore a nondescript black cloak – with a cooling charm in summer. But people were no longer out to openly lynch her anymore – mainly they ignored her.

She still refused to be outside at midday looking like herself.

Added to her make-up was a glamour, just as a protective layer. Most witches wore glamours anyway so it didn't really matter that she did the same. Although some wizards were gifted with the ability to see glamours, they wouldn't notice it as anything out of the ordinary.

James also tended to wear a black cloak and muggle make-up. He, however, avoided glamours – after all, men didn't wear glamours so much. When he did wear one it was over a few small parts of his appearance – oftentimes his hair, as his most prominently recognised feature. But James didn't get so much attention – he hadn't been _there_. James was only _famous by association_.

He had done more interviews than Lily – a grand total of two.

The children never wore cloaks – it would have been noted as unusual. However Ava's picture had never appeared in public and the majority of the public didn't even know her hair colour. Lily hadn't let anyone take pictures of her little girl, and whenever Ava was out she had so much make-up and dye on she looked like a different person. Once the little girl had even paraded down Fine Alley with Lily as diplomats from the Kingdom of Persia (never mind that the Kingdom had been abolished twenty years ago, it had been fun pretending) and both had dyed their skin and hair completely black, wearing muggle contacts over their eyes. Lily swore to this day that it was the most fun she'd had in years, and James had never been more proud of her (or so he said). Padfoot had cried, 'we'll make a marauder out of you yet, Lils' and Moony had sat in the background, laughing as he always had. But Lily would never do it again, after all, people may catch on to the fact that she actually had _no _royal blood at all, and then she'd have to go to the Ministry and… but if she absolutely had to, Lily definitely wouldn't say no to it.

But the Potter family didn't go out much.

Having got her daughter dressed, made-up and charmed, she left her to play in the playpen while she went and had a shower. She was barely under the water before she sprang out, scrambling into her clothes and cosmetics, putting a final glamour on herself before she hurried into the living room. James was already there, attempting to deal with Ethan, while Harry stood sulking in the corner. Sighing, Lily threw a glamour at Ethan, who was to busy fighting James to notice. Making her way over to her other son, she began to charm him. Today Lily and James would be Harry, Ethan and Ava's older siblings. They would be a family of Muggleborns – rare as it was for a whole family to be magical – and their parents would be less than happy about magic. So Tania and Dave Michigan, 22 and 24 respectively were helping their siblings, Sebastian (Harry) and Devlin (Ethan) get their Hogwarts supplies. Their youngest sister, Anika, (or Annie) was seldom parted from Tania, so she was coming too. They had grown up in London, although for the past ten years they had lived in the country. Tania and Roy still lived with their parents, although Roy would soon be heading off on a journey around the world before he settled on a job… Lily sometimes got carried away with the back-stories. This time she would have to remember to actually tell everyone…

Harry and Ethan always wore glamours. Even though there was the risk of people spotting the glamours, if done correctly people would just think they were twins born with the same defect, or something similar. The trick was to glamour the hair so that it encompassed the forehead, or do one eye, glamouring it right over the eyebrow as well. It was a risk, but muggle make-up didn't cover the scars, all that did was make them bleed.

Those dratted scars… what Lily wouldn't give if she could just get rid of them.

Lily finished with the glamours, and gave one last inspection of Harry's makeup. Nodding in approval, Lily stepped back. Both boys were fantastic at the application of make-up both magic and muggle. She suspected they would perfect the glamour charm very early as well.

"Harry, Ethan, I know this is a big day for you. It's why we won't be owl-ordering everything. But we must also keep in mind the crowds and reporters prowling about. We will not stop for side-trips. We will not stop for brooms or for joke shops," she spoke to James, "Nor will we stop for books or potions," she continued to herself. "We will split into two groups. Boys, you're still the same size, so _Sebastian_," she nodded to Harry, "You'll get yourself measured and get twice the amount of robes, gloves, hats and such. Then we'll go get two telescopes. _Dave_," she looked at James sternly, while the man-turned-twenty-year-old had flashbacks to his school days, "you will get two cauldrons, two sets of phials – _crystal_, remember – two brass scales, double the usual amount of first year ingredients _and _two sets of first year books. _Do you have the list?_" James flinched slightly as he lifted the list for her to see. With a flick, she copied it, stuffing it into the folds of her cloak. She would need it, after all, to get the robes. "At nine thirty we will meet at Ollivanders to get your wands. No earlier, no later. We will stop for no one, no matter who we meet. Boys, you can make friends on the express, you _do not need to make them now_. Is that clear?"

Even Ava on the floor looked mildly alarmed. But Lily did not back down. The family was by now used to her paranoia over Diagon Alley, but they had never had a talk this full-blown.

"This is prime time for students to be buying school supplies! I may have asked Professor McGonagall to send the letter early, but it doesn't change the fact that many children will be around to buy owls, trunks and potions supplies early. The alley will be packed! So: _Is… that… clear?_"

There was frantic nodding, none daring to break the silence.

"Good." Lily took a deep breath. _The public wasn't out to get her, they didn't want her blood_, she tried to tell herself… But her mind kept reminding her of the day after the court case, walking through Diagon… the mob on her way through the markets… they were on top of her… spells flying everywhere… apparating away at the last minute…

Taking another breath, Lily began to explain their story. She cut the emotion from her face, and let the words flow. Story-telling… Lily had always been good at that. She was already beginning to see how Tania would act, her behaviour, her speech-pattern…

Finally calm, Lily led her family to the floo.

"Diagon Alley!"

_-NoR-_

Stepping out of the floo, Sebastian made his way to Tania's side.

"Will we be meeting Syria today?" He asked, letting excitement cloud his voice, "What about Summer?" He really wanted to see Tania's friends today. They often looked after him, Devlin and Annie when Tania and Dave weren't there. Syria, Summer and Tania had met at Hogwarts, then bonded when they discovered Summer's illness and had been inseparable ever since.

"Summer's sick today – she and Syria were up all night. You know – they say people go crazy with the moon and all."

Yeah, Sebastian did know. Summer and Syria _always _stayed up late, and they always, especially Summer, acted a bit crazier under the moon.

Devlin and Dave stepped out of the fire one after the other, brushing soot off their clothes and wandering over to the group.

"What was the hold-up? We're on a tight schedule, you know. No time for messing around." Tania said this with a joking smile, but Sebastian could hear the underlying threat in her eyes.

"Devlin just had a minor break-down. You know, the usual: what if I have no friends at Hogwarts, what if no one likes me…" Dave smiled down at Ethan.

"D- Dave! You said you wouldn't say anything!" Seb could hear the 'in front of Sebastian'. Devlin never liked to appear 'weak' in front of him… He sometimes wished Devlin would just admit that he was a complete pansy and stop pretending. So he said so. But before Devlin could retaliate, Tania and Dave dragged the two away from each other.

"Remember what you're doing and when to meet?" Dave demanded.

"Yes, Dave." Tania said in _that tone_. Tania often used _that tone_ with Dave. He was so overprotective: It was Tania's role as a younger sister to become as exasperated with him as possible, just as it was Devlin and Sebastian's roles to fight as often as possible.

Entering the Alley, Sebastian was shocked yet again by the magic. He had been to the Alley twice before, but even now it was like he was seeing it for the first time. It was bursting with life, bustling about, never still, just a constant movement. Harry felt like he could spend all day here, running with the crowd, foraging under every crack and corner and he wouldn't find everything…

But Sebastian was still.

"Hurry up, Sebastian! We haven't got all day!"

He followed his sister to _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. It was a long way down the alley, but eventually they made it. It was, after all, the best robe shop in London. Sebastian wasn't going to complain – if it meant he had the _finest _robes England had to offer, why should he? Well, Harry could think of numerous reasons to complain – they were just clothes!

Entering the shop, Sebastian, Tania and little Annie were greeted by Madam Malkin. Upon seeing an eleven-year old, she ushered Sebastian to a stool.

"Isn't it a bit early for Hogwarts students? I thought the letters wouldn't come till tomorrow?" She questioned as she set about measurements, directing an assistant to send out fabrics for Tania and Sebastian to look at.

"Yes," Tania answered, dismissing most of the fabrics, finally finding two she liked, holding them up to Sebastian, trying to find which she preferred. "But we'll be leaving soon for France – a final holiday before Sebastian goes to school. We wrote to the school and asked for the letter in advance." Deciding that she couldn't decide in advance, she asked for a set in each. "Devlin and Sebastian are twins. They're the same size exactly, but Devlin would look better in this one, while Sebastian looks better in this. It's all in the eyes…"

Madam Malkin finished measuring, and set the fabrics to be cut and sown with her wand, while chatting with Tania. Sebastian personally couldn't tell the difference between the fabrics, but if Tania said they were different they probably were… In fact the only difference he could tell was the price – his fabric was a little cheaper than Devlin's.

Sebastian shifted anxiously in his seat. He was getting bored with this. Usually he didn't mind shopping, but all this sitting around was making Harry itching to… do something. His mother always hated shopping in disguise, because it made all the colouring off, so they tended to shop for clothes in the muggle world where the family could afford to not go about hidden. This sitting around, and waiting was quite a novel experience for Harry, although he vaguely remembered going with his Dad to the robe shop years ago to buy dress robes… and Mum had reminded him not to glamour himself in a way that changed his body shape because then the measurements would be off… and Harry had been so very bored…

But he was Sebastian, not Harry, Sebastian! And Sebastian loved shopping, and always sat still! In fact, Seb hated running. He preferred to curl up with a nice book, than to run around outside…

Finally, after half an hour of robes, hats, gloves and cloaks, Sebastian was done with the robe shop. Rushing to _Oddment's Ends_, a shop just across the road, Tania and Sebastian picked out two good telescopes, before sprinting through to Ollivanders just in time. Coming the other way, they could make out Devlin and Dave strolling down the alley, each holding an ice-cream.

"Dave!" Tania let out in _that tone_. "You were the one talking about getting here on time!" But her eyes promised that later, there would be hell to pay.

"Sorry, Tania. We had time. Besides, I bought one for you, Annie and Sebastian too!" He brought out the three ice-creams with a wave of his wand. "It's your favourite!"

But Tania was not pleased. With her own wand, she vanished them. Sebastian didn't mind – eating in public just wasn't done. However, Devlin, Dave and Annie looked hurt. Devlin and Dave were about to protest when Annie started to cry.

"But I want ice-cream! Mu-!" Quickly, an ice-cream appeared in front of her. Grabbing it with two hands, her tears quickly vanished. Tania turned to Dave.

"Come on, it's your turn to look after her. You two go home. I'll get the wands." Although Dave was still grumbling about his ice-cream, he did as Tania said. _Dave, _thought Sebastian, _is becoming more and more Dave James Michigan, which means that Devlin is becoming Devlin Ethan and Tania, Tania Lily Michigan. What's more, Annie was very close to slipping up completely there! If we're not careful…_

His thoughts were cut off as they entered the wand shop.

_Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC._ The shop was filled with stacks of wands, piles upon piles, but it seemed dusty and old… so old…

So _magical…_

"Hello? Mr. Ollivander? We're here for some wands?" Tania's voice cut through the silence, clear as day. But everything was still. Silence, silence, nothing, silence, nothing, _magic_,

"Good day." The three jumped out of their skins. There was Mr. Ollivander – his eyes so silvery pale they creeped Harry out even more. "Ah, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you Messrs. Potter, and how delightful to see you again, Mrs. Potter. You, boy," He was suddenly staring at Harry, though Harry hadn't seen him move, "You have your mother's eyes, though you," he was now facing Ethan, "you have your father's." Then he was in front of Lily. "It seems only yesterday you were in here, buying your first wand: Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr. Ollivander hadn't blinked yet. "Of course, you've been through many a wand since then, haven't you, Miss Evans?"

Lily nodded. All the Potters were silent while the man hummed.

"Cedar, black walnut, walnut, maple, chestnut, redwood, hawthorn… The list goes on. It's silver lime, a good round eleven inches you favour now, of course… quite thin, but a lot of power in that wand… a lot of power…" He seemed to become lost in thought, only to shake himself out of it when Harry shifted, hating the stillness, making the floorboards creak. "Of course, James still favours his first wand. Mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. Less powerful than the blackthorn, but more so than the willow – but what can you say for a first wand. Excellent for transfiguration. Though 'favours' isn't quite the right word… the wand chooses the wizard, of course."

But now Mr. Ollivander was in front of Ethan reaching out towards his forehead, his fingers brushing the now-visible scar.

"And that's where…"

Lily coughed, slightly, and Mr. Ollivander drew back.

"I apologise, Mrs. Potter." He said softly, as he slowly drew back into the shadows of the shop. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

Lily coughed again, and Mr. Ollivander came out of his reverie. Recovering, Mr. Ollivander set his tape measures to work.

"Wand arm?" he snapped.

"They're both right-handed." Lily snapped back. While the tape measures went a-measuring, Mr. Ollivander began his lecture:

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a magical substance, Messrs. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Mr. Ollivander wands are the same, ju-"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Lily interrupted. "I sincerely apologise, Mr. Ollivander, but we don't have much time." She didn't look very sincere at all, and Mr. Ollivander looked quite angry at the interruption.

"_Very well_." He stated. "That will do." He called to the tape measures, which had begun measuring the widths of fingernails, the length of strands of hair and even between nostrils. It fell to the ground.

"Right then, you." He pointed to Ethan, while Harry wondered if he actually knew their names. "Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. While you," he pointed to Harry, "try this – maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches and quite whippy. Just take them and give them a wave. If they don't work, swap." Mr. Ollivander seemed quite agitated now, and Lily seemed downright cranky. But Ethan and Harry just foolishly waved the wands around before they found the wands snatched out of their hands and into the others'. The new wands had similar results. Piles of wands went by, and as they did, Mr. Ollivander seemed to become less and less agitated. In fact by the fourth round of wands he looked positively delighted.

"Tricky customers, eh? Don't worry we'll find you both the right wands."

Ollivander had barely finished speaking before Ethan cried out in delight. Out of the wand he held, red and gold sparks were flying, lighting up the room. Mr. Ollivander clapped with joy, while Lily went to hug her son.

"Very good, very good. Fir, Thirteen inches, phoenix feather. A survivor's wand! Very appropriate, very appropriate indeed…"

Ethan seemed quite scared of Ollivander, but on the whole pleased with his wand. Lily whispered a 'well done' to him and he beamed in pride.

Harry still hadn't found his wand.

Piles upon piles of wands seemed to transfer from the neatly-arranged shelves to mountains beside him before Mr. Ollivander finally said, "I wonder – yes, why not – an unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple, would have expected… but perhaps this is right…"

He continued to mutter to himself while Harry took the wand. Suddenly his hand felt warm, and secure – like the warmth of the night… He raised his arm above his head and brought his wand swishing down, feeling a cloud of warmth surround him.

"Oh, bravo!" Mr. Ollivander cried, and Ethan grinned and Lily came over to hug him. Harry was so happy – having his wand finally in his hands felt like meeting an old friend…

But then Mr. Ollivander ruined it all.

"Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious. Curious, curious…" He muttered as he wrapped both wands back up and put them away in their cases.

"Sorry, but _what's_ curious?" Harry asked, almost too scared to hear the answer. Mr. Ollivander was in front of him again, his pale, unblinking, nerve-wracking stare piercing him.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave your own brother his scar."

Harry swallowed. Ethan, who had moved beside him during the speech, seemed to freeze up.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yes. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered and he felt Ethan do the same. Silently, Lily paid fourteen galleons for the wands and shepherded them out of the shop.

It was only once they were out of the shop that they realised all their glamours and make-up had failed. At ten o'clock, Diagon Alley was at peak hour and Ollivander's was down the very end of the street. They needed to get to the end of the Alley without attracting attention – which, unfortunately, was not going to happen.

"Mum! What are we going to do? There's people everywhere!" Harry and Ethan had never seen this many people at once. Even in Muggle London, they had made a point to avoid places that might attract the attention of Muggleborns. At the sight of so many people, both children were growing slightly frantic. Lily, meanwhile, was just shy of a full-out panic attack.

'_They're not out to get you, they're not out to get you'_ was quickly becoming her mantra.

"Right…" Lily thought for a second. "There's no way you two are going anywhere near the other inn, so it's the Leaky or apparition. I can only take one of you side-along… Harry, take the invisibility cloak. Without your glasses, they're less likely to recognise you." Harry had always worn glasses in public when he'd been spotted. He was now wearing contacts – the one camouflage that hadn't failed. "Harry, be brave. Besides, Ethan's the one they really care about now." And with that, she apparated Ethan away.

Now Harry was alone. All alone, in a crowded street, she'd left him. While it was true that they cared more about Ethan, she could have said it nicer…

Although at first everyone had been obsessed with the idea of Lily, Ethan and Harry as the saviours of the Wizarding World, his mother's part had soon been shoved away when the public discovered that You-Know-Who had let her live. After all, if he'd let her live, she couldn't be trusted.

So Ethan and Harry were the celebrated saviours. People had attempted to flock to them, while their parents had shielded them away, adding to their air of mystery, while Harry dreamed.

But over the years the dreams had faded. Harry now hadn't had a dream in weeks… Actually, now that he thought about it, the last time he remembered having the dream was in May – it was a record. He still remembered waking up, at seven years old and running into his parents' room, proclaiming that he'd had his first real dream. He'd told them in excruciating detail how he had been a snake, slithering through a forest, climbing over rocks, under logs, through bushes… Harry didn't dream often, but he tended to dream about moving about in forests a lot, when he wasn't dreaming about… that, of course.

But when the dreams had faded to more of a monthly thing, his Mum had been able to finally work proper hours, which please her immensely, though she tried to hide it. And then, one night, Harry had told her what happened in the dreams.

Almost.

He told her how a scary figure came in, the speaking, the pleading, the flash of red light… the wand, the face… watching the green light speed towards Ethan…

Harry never told her the perspectives of his dreams. He knew not to tell. It was a secret, never to be told to anyone. It wouldn't do anyone good to know that Harry Potter, one of the Boys-Who-Lived had the Dark Lord's nightmares.

But from this, Lily had gathered that Ethan had been the one to survive the curse, thus solving one great mystery. In a moment of insanity, Lily had informed the press and given her first (and final) interview.

It had not ended well for either party.

But then the Wizarding World had recognised Ethan as its saviour – but never quite letting Harry fade into the background. Being hit by a killing curse was certainly a good explanation for Ethan's lightning scar, however it failed to explain the rotten thing on Harry's own forehead that seemed to grow every year…

But now Harry had a problem. He had to get from one end of Diagon Alley to the other without being spotted.

_Why did Lily have to be so focused on keeping Ethan safe and not, for once, look after me?_

He let the angst wash over him for a second before he forced himself to focus. With the invisibility cloak on, he stepped out from the shadows.

Light streamed through him, hitting the ground below. No one seemed to notice the monumental change that had just occurred. Suppressing the urge to run, Harry slipped and slid through Diagon Alley, avoiding families, brushing between couples, dodging goblins, even ducking between a centaur's legs. He was almost at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, when some red-haired idiot stepped on his cloak.

"Oh, Merlin – You're Harry Potter!" And with that – pandemonium.

The crowd descended on him in a flash, people straining to shake his hand, touch him, spot him, _anything_. They crowded around him, all talking at once and he quivered beneath their stares. There were _so many people_. They were taking photos, stroking him, pulling his hair…

'_Ow!'_

_The blonde haired girl jittered at him, smiling sarcastically._

'_What was that for?'_

'_I don't know what you mean, Tom.' She replied, eyeing the caretakers to make sure they weren't looking._

'_You pulled my hair!'_

'_Don't be silly, Tom.'_

_Tom's eyes narrowed. Amy Benson wouldn't know what was coming…_

"Ow!" harry yelped, but nobody paid attention. They were leaning over him, clawing at him like vultures and Harry felt tears in his eyes.

He just wanted to be away…

Suddenly, he shut down. He stopped feeling. He had seen Lily do it before, but he himself had never managed it – before now. As if seeing the crowd through another's eyes, he stood up.

"_Stop._" He commanded. His voice was loud, cutting through the noise of the rabble.

"_Leave_." His words rang with magic. Slowly, impossibly, the crowd began to back away. As they left, so did the numbness.

Suddenly scared, he snapped back into awareness. Before anyone could notice anything the cloak was back around him and he had scampered away into the Leaky Cauldron.

Chucking in some floo powder, Harry announced his destination. Entering the fireplace, he felt the green flames licking at his legs before he whisked away – home.

…

…

What did you think? I'd love to know – review!

The second chapter will be out within a week, and the third chapter probably a week after that. I'm not sure about further updates – I go to school, I've got homework, you know the story – but when the next lot of holidays come around, I can promise a huge updating spree.

EDIT: 30 Jan, 2012


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Nightmares of Reality**

**Author: Claire (.morbidity)**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Family/Tragedy**

**Pairings: None **(except canon side-pairings between parents like LE/JP)

**Warnings: Possibly eventual murder, insanity, death, torture, in this chapter specifically there's mention of using unforgiveables on animals, and naturally spoilers**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR.**

**Summary: Extended Summary: The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come to life. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.**

_-NoR-_

Well, here's the second chapter. Read and enjoy!

_-NoR-_

**Chapter Two**

Apart from the disastrous trip to Diagon Alley, things were quiet for the Potters for those last months of summer. Sirius and Remus visited all the time, and Harry got his pancakes. In all, everything was good.

Harry had browsed through his textbooks with Ethan, but had found them about as interesting as any other book: boring. Harry and Ethan had been bored to tears by Lily's constant nattering about learning the properties of various potions over the past year and a half, and now refused to touch either their potions or herbology book. But, due to her persistence, they had memorised the recipes for every potion on the first year curriculum – and a lot of the second-year potions too.

But, overall, finally learning magic didn't seem like it would be as fun as those stolen moments with James' wand had seemed… At least until the Sunday before they left, when Lily approached the children, wand out.

"Harry, Ethan. Before you go to Hogwarts, I want you to learn to defend yourselves."

Harry and Ethan looked up from their breakfast, spoons slopping down into their cereal. Had they heard that right? Actually, were they seeing things? With a glance at the clock they could tell that the time was seven thirty – and there was Lily, panda eyed and baby pink dressing gowned in front of them. Her other hand dangled at her side and her movements were sluggish, but the tip of her wand was alight with magic. And her eyes were hauntedly alive.

"Boys, go get your wands. I'll meet you in the basement."

The basement was Lily's room: where she did all her Unspeakable experiments and such. Not even James knew everything that went on in there, not even he knew the full extent of the rooms.

Shocked, the boys ran upstairs to collect their beloved wands from their trunks, before scurrying back down towards the Entrance, the same faraway look in their eyes as their mother's.Running through the hall, the boys made a one-eighty when they reached the open trapdoor. Sharing a look of – excitement? Trepidation? Joy? – They descended.

Lily's room was nothing like they had expected – they had never been allowed to enter before. For one thing everything was the same shade of dark gray – everything. Workbenches and cupboards of all sizes scattered the room, the exact colour, but there was nothing in the room they would have expected from the den of an Unspeakable. Later they would realise that Lily must have packed away all the cool stuff, leaving only the bare essentials out, but for now they were severely disappointed – and a bit spooked too when they realised that, as the room had no windows or lamps, the only light in the room was coming from an eerie white ball in the ceiling, crackling silently with energy. And Lily was nowhere in sight.

Their breaths rose as the trapdoor stairs rose of their own accord, without a sound. Twisting and turning, they tried to search for another person, another being in the room, but they found not even a spider. Harry shivered as a wisp of something brushed past his leg.

"Hey!" yelped Ethan, breaking the deathly silence.

"What?" whispered Harry, still twisting, still turning, constantly moving.

"You poked me!" Ethan growled, turning to Harry, no longer scared."Funny trick, that. Now use the spell and open the trapdoor so we can leave."

Harry turned to him, shocked. Now the boys stood face to face, confronting each other.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't know any spells and I was over here – I couldn't have poked you."

Ethan's brown eyes blazed, and his fists clenched. Like he would believe that. "Like you don't know any spells – Dad taught me a whole heap! I bet Siri and Remi taught you heaps more – including spells for poking people and closing trapdoors!"

Harry stared, wide-eyed at Ethan. When had their Dad had the chance to teach Ethan spells and not him? He was always with them – it must have been at night, in secret, before Lily got home and after Harry went to bed. But why had he only taught Ethan? Didn't he like Harry so much as Ethan? That old resentment, that Harry had thought he'd been rid of years ago, reared its ugly head.

_Well, he's the Boy-Who-Lived, isn't he?_

_No! _Harry thought savagely. _It's not cause he survived some stupid curse. It's because… Because… Dad must think Ethan's too stupid to learn anything on his own. He thinks he needs extra training… Yeah, that's it._

"Dad just thinks you're too stupid to learn spells at Hogwarts. I'm smart enough to learn without extra training." Harry's own fists clenched and he started jiggling, fidgeting.

"No – Dad said that he wanted -"

But they never found out what their father had wanted, as with a mauve light, the two boys were clutching their sides.

"Ow!"

"That hurt!"

Searching the room for their attacker, they finally saw Lily.

"Mum?"

Lily was wearing her Unspeakable robes – dark grey, naturally, with a black cloak, emerald eyes and dark red hair barely visible beneath it.  
>"Never become distracted in an unknown situation."<p>

Light flashed behind them, and suddenly their backs were stinging. Spinning to face the other side of the room, Lily was standing there.

"Never assume that just because you think you see something it's true."

The boys were starting to freak out now. Was this really their mother? Why was she acting this… scary? Was it someone else pretending to be their mother? Or… could this be Lily?

"_Protego._" The maybe-Lily said. A translucent blue shield appeared in front of her. "The shield charm is you best friend. It fends off attacks physical, magical and mental. When performed correctly the spell will reflect an attack back towards the instigator. The strength of the deflecting spell depends solely on the power you put into the shield. But be warned! A person with stronger physical prowess than the magic in your shield _will _overcome it. A spell more powerful than your shield _will _break it. A person who is mentally stronger or more prepared than you _will _break through. Some spells, more commonly dark curses, aredesigned specifically to go through these shields. The Unforgiveable Curses will not be stopped by a shield. However, if used correctly, the shield charm can be your best friend. You – will – learn – it."

In front of both boys appeared a piece of parchment with the spell, the incantation, the wand movements and a brief summary of the theory. Glancing at each other, their previous fight forgotten, they lifted their wands and began to cast.

It was a complete failure.The boys didn't know, of course, that the shield charm was more fourth or fifth year level, so their failure cut.

"Proo-TEE-ga!"

"Prow-teh-GOH!"

But no matter how many times they failed, Lily just kept standing there – still. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she said, "Pro-TAY-goh."

The boys turned up to stare at her, but her expression didn't change from the stony cold glare.

"Pro-TAY-goh." She said again, this time doing the wand movements slowly for them to see.

By mimicking her pronunciation and movements, Ethan was finally able to get a blue spark.

"Ha!" He jumped for joy, but Harry was furious. Why had Ethan been the one to get it first?

_I bet it was the extra training he's been getting from Dad…_

Narrowing his eyes, Harry gripped his holly wand tightly. He was better than Ethan. He must be, he had to be. His stupid twin wouldn't see what was coming. Harry was going to be the best bloody wizard the world had ever seen.

"_Protego._" A frail blue film grew in front of him. It may not be a full shield – definitely not as good as his mother's – but it was better than Ethan's at least.

"Great job, Harry!" Ethan smiled at him. And suddenly Harry realised he was the one being stupid. What had been thinking? Ethan was a great brother – and getting the odd spell right before him didn't change that. Harry shouldn't be jealous – he was being stupid himself. They were brothers; they were equals. And Ethan wasn't envious of Harry when he got a spell right – how could Harry be jealous of him? Harry hid his berating of himself with a smile of his own.

"Thanks, Ethan."

While they had been practicing, Lily had lowered her hood and now her eyes were alight with pride. "Yes, well done, Harry."

Suddenly she moved, sending two stinging jinxes in rapid succession. The first one crumbled Harry's shield, but as Harry had seen her cast the second he managed to dodge out of the way.

"Very well done, indeed."

The rest of the morning was spent in a similar fashion. Both Harry and Ethan were soon worn-out with the shield charm – and could hardly wrap their heads around the way that their mother was acting – but by lunch they both had mastered the shield charm at a basic level, could stun an opponent at a close range – and had learnt about overexposure to stinging jinxes. Nursing their wounds, they began to climb up the trapdoor. Neither had seen it open, yet after Lily had dismissed them they had turned around to find it open.

Yet before Harry could leave he felt something brush over his leg, looking down, a thin wisp of silvery, … stuff… was floating by.

"Stuff!" Lily called in a tone Harry had heard many times, shouting out through the skies to her husband and sons, telling them to get down because they had to eat sometime or other, yet the voice Lily now was using lacked the same amusement that Harry had come to associate with it. "Get back in your cage." The Stuff seemed to whimper as it slunk back to a dark grey cage that had appeared by the wall. Harry stood dumbfounded on the ladder, while Lily locked it up. Turning to him, she smiled reassuringly, but it didn't quite reach her wrinkled, wide eyes.

"Don't worry… Stuff's harmless."

Harry felt his mouth drop.

"What was that?" He asked, wondering if his eyes might pop out as he focused on the… Stuff.

"An experiment gone wrong." Lily listed some terms that Harry had no clue about – something about an essence of patronus combined with a physiological bond of matter and… Harry didn't even know how to say the next words. "But Stuff's sort of my familiar now. James doesn't like it though – he finds it creepy for some reason." Pure confusion reaped through her voice and a small frown appeared on her forehead, but she quickly shook it off, and closed her eyes.

And with that Lily seemed to disappear into the shadows, leaving Harry to stare at the Stuff.

Sometime later, Harry realised he was suddenly sitting cross-legged on the floor above the trapdoor, staring into space. Jumping out of his reverie, he got up and went to the kitchen to grab some lunch before his Dad got back from Siri's place with Ava and raided the kitchen. Ava had gone early in the morning with James to Grimmauld Place to help Remi and Siri patch up after the full moon, without breakfast. Siri and Remi went there for Remus' transformation because it was secure and they didn't care about messing it up. However, because nobody lived there, there was no edible food. James would be starving when he got back, possibly bringing in the terrible two with him.

When they were at school, Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and the mysterious Wormtail had been great friends, spending the full moon together, however now James was married and only went with them every two or three full moons. They had taken Hogwarts by storm, spending all their time together. Prongs had even promised to Padfoot that he would be his firstborn's godfather. Padfoot hadn't made a similar promise: Padfoot didn't want children.

But the Potters were drifting further and further away from society. These days, they barely ever saw Siri and Remi. They were secluded in paranoia, while Siri and Remi were in central London protesting creature rights. But they still came round at full moon to patch themselves up, and they always got the best birthday presents. In fact, just this last birthday, they'd combined presents and given them a _Nimbus 2000_…

_The laughter, the joy, the happiness…_

_Unwrapping presents, two boys gasping and shouting while proud parents and godfathers stand in the background…_

_Expensive cloaks from Aunt Bathilda…_

_A renewal of their subscription to the Quibbler as well as the new Weird Sisters album from the Lovegoods…_

_Some chocolate frogs and sugar quills from the Longbottoms…_

_Fifty pence each from Aunt Petunia…_

_An art set for Ethan from their parents…_

_A set of first-class snitches for Harry…_

_And then… a shared present form Siri and Remi…_

_Oh, wow…_

_Sleek and shiny, perfectly shaped…_

_Nimbus 2000_

_I want to try it first! – The obligatory argument._

'_Harry, there's one more present for you – why doesn't Ethan have first go while you unwrap this one?'_

_There were protests on Ethan's part, of course: why does Harry get another present? Just like Harry protested that that didn't mean that Ethan should have first go. But soon Ethan was up in the air while Harry unwrapped his final present._

_Out fell a set of old books, as well as a note. Looking in disgust at the books, Harry picked up the crumpled note and read,_

Harry,

As your godfather I am obliged to give you a birthday present. Read these books, brat, you may learn something.

One last bit of advice before you find yourself at Hogwarts: don't sort Slytherin.

Your _loving_ godfather,

Severus Snape.

_Harry huffed in disappointment. Of course, while James had promised his firstborn to Padfoot, he'd made no promises about second borns. Lily had chosen her second son's godfather…_

_So now Ethan was off flying with his godfather and Harry was stuck with some ratty old potions books and a godfather who couldn't even be bothered to come on his birthday…_

_-NoR-_

The night before September 1, Lily felt like dying. What if everything went wrong? She'd seen how Ethan and Harry reacted in Diagon Alley. What would it be like when they were at school and everyone knew who they were and just kept _staring _at them? Harry had been so scared after coming back from Diagon Alley… maybe she could home school them? She'd had them casting shield charms and stunning spells – she could teach them charms and defence, while James would be a fantastic transfiguration teacher. Together they could teach them history, astronomy… and for potions she could teach them, while getting help from Severus. She and James could pull out the textbooks for Herbology and she was sure Mrs. Longbottom would be happy to lend them her greenhouse every now and then… It would just be until they were older. Maybe thirteen? Fifteen? They could just go for their final year; actually did they really need to go at all? She and James could teach them, and if not she could hire a tutor. They didn't need all those extra children around; they had each other… And besides, with Harry's dreams it really wasn't suitable for him to share a dorm. Minerva had said that as long as it didn't happen too often it would be fine, but Lily wasn't so sure. As a teenager she wouldn't have wanted to be woken up once a month or so by a screaming dorm mate… then again, James had stayed up all night with his dorm mates once a month from fifth to seventh year…

A soft pittering of creaks sounded in the hallway, pausing by the hall. After a heartbeat, the door creaked open to reveal a tiny three-year-old form.

"Ava?" Lily whispered hoarsely. She coughed to clear her throat before continuing in a normal voice. "What's up, sweetie?" She wasn't much worried about waking the slumbering mound beside her – she was fairly certain a brass band couldn't wake James.

Ava hurriedly tiptoed into the room, crossing the carpet to the bed in a flash. Her little fingers curled around Lily's legs as she used them to hoist herself up onto the bed, before crawling over to Lily. In the dim light from the painted stars above, Lily could see tears in her little daughter's eyes.

"What's wrong, darling?"

The little girl shook her head into Lily's neck, flinging her arms around her. Lily could feel the tears soaking her pyjamas. Slowly, she patted Ava, making hushed cooing noises, calming her. Finally, when Ava had relaxed her constrictor grip on her neck, Lily spoke.

"You don't want them to leave either, huh?"

She was unprepared for the onslaught of tears. Ava howled and howled.

"Etan an' Hawwy _can'_ go! I won' _let _dem. Dey're not '_llowed!"_

Hastily shushing her daughter, she held her tight, hoping no one else would wake up.

"I know, I know, I don't want them to go either. Do you know I've spent the last hour thinking up ways I could make them stay? I was thinking homeschooling, or maybe we could hold them back a year…" Lily went on with ways Harry and Ethan could stay while Ava relaxed at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Or maybe we could just keep them. If we put them under the fidelius, there'd be no way of enforcing that they go to Hogwarts. Sure, the ministry wouldn't like it and we'd become fugitives, but that doesn't really matter…"

Suddenly, Lily realised that Ava had fallen asleep… and that there was someone else at her door. Rolling Ava over to rest on her father, Lily called out to the figure.

"Ethan, you can come in."

Ethan jumped at her calling, but he scurried in anyway. He to scrambled over to Lily, who met her son with open arms.

They sat in silence together, next to a sleeping Ava and James, for a few minutes, their breathing synchronised.

"Do I have to go? ... Mummy, I'm scared." Lily just held him, while he shook and cried. Trying to get into a more comfortable position, he kicked James.

The funny thing about James Potter was that he could sleep through just about any noise, but tap him a bit and he would wake up in a flash.

"Hmmm? Waz 'ap'nin?"

James sat up, causing Ava to roll off and wake up.

"Well, we've got the whole family here, haven't we... Last minute celebrations?"

Ava started to cry again, so it was James' turn to calm her down.

Lily turned a soft face to James.

"What do you say about homeschooling…"

James stared at his beautiful wife – he was so lucky to have her. Her almond-shaped green eyes so wide and innocent in that moment she looked eleven again, even though in the next second he spotted lines around her face he remembered once hadn't been there – but he had been with her when they grew, and that's all that mattered.

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Lily-flower."

Lily smiled at the nickname, seeing the mischief in her husband's eyes. She could remember a thousand pick-up lines that hadn't worked, and finally the one non-pick-up that had… Years of teasing, years of laughter, years as teenagers.

"Why do I have to go, Mum?" Ethan whispered into her shoulder. Patting him, Lily took a deep breathe before answering.

"Hogwarts… Has its ups and downs. You make your best friends and your worst enemies. You date, you play pranks, and you have fun… Hogwarts was some of the best years of my life… they made me… I -" she sniffled, "I don't want you to miss out on that."

James slung an arm awkwardly around her shoulder and she leaned into his shoulder, hugging Ethan to her while Ava lay cradled on James' lap in his other arm. Absently, Lily hummed a little happy tune, singing them to sleep.

The next morning, they woke up like that.

_-NoR-_

_He was burning. So hot, hot to melt, melt to meld, meld to bind…_

_Too hot…_

_To feel whole again…_

_He took a gasping breath, trying to find oxygen in the burning air. He couldn't breathe – too hot – his limbs were on fire… His skull was burning…_

You have displeased me, Quirrell…

'_I'm sorry, master, so sorry…'_

You were told to get the stone… All summer you have failed at this… It should have been easy, but you have been nothing but a _miserable _failure…

'_Please, master, I'm sorry! I'll do anything!'_

_He took in a shuddering breath. It was cooling down, he was settling, he could _see…

_Rolling his neck around, moving his eyes, the breath of fresh air – oh, he had a _tongue_, a _nose…

'_I'm so sorry master!'_

You will not disappoint me again.

"_Avada Kedavra!" He spun around, wand out, as a bolt of green light sped towards a rat, and he began to cackle. He hadn't felt so good in ten long years… ten long years…_

Harry sat up, tears streaming. What was that dream? It was a new dream. But definitely another nightmare… a worse nightmare. Shivering, he hoped he wouldn't have this one again…

Suddenly, Harry noticed that his mother wasn't rushing in like usual. What did that mean? Usually when he had a nightmare he'd scream out and his mother would wake up in a flash and…

Thinking back, Harry realised he hadn't screamed.

That had always been something that Ethan had teased him about – Harry still needs his mummy, Harry needs her to take care of him after the _scawy nightmares_, Harry's such a baby, crying when he has a _bad dream_…

But this time, Harry hadn't screamed. A smile blooming on his face, Harry crept across the hallway and down the stairs to his parents' room. He couldn't wait to tell Lily that he hadn't screamed, and that he would take Hogwarts by storm and wasn't she proud of him…

In his parents' room, Ethan and Ava were on the bed, with Dad _awake_. Lily was awake too, looking happy and lovely in the murky light.

And then Dad said, "Well, we've got the whole family here, haven't we... Last minute celebrations?"

Harry turned around, placing himself flat against the wall by the door, making sure he wasn't heard or seen. Ava was bawling, in fact the _whole _family was sniffling while Harry stood, the cold brick searing into his back. They didn't think that, did they? He was their family, wasn't he? Was he adopted? But he looked so much like both James and Lily… Was it because he wasn't the stupid boy-who-lived? But then why was Ava there?

Maybe it was just because he had nightmares, and the others didn't?

Or maybe it was because they didn't like Harry.

"What do you say about homeschooling?" Lily asked in a light voice. Harry could hear flowers blooming from her voice in a soft summer breeze. Too bad that summer was almost over…

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Lily-flower."

Did they mean homeschooling for Ethan to keep him home, or just for Harry because they didn't want to inflict him on Hogwarts? Did they want to keep Ethan and send Harry away? Was that what James was talking about celebrating for?

"Why do I have to go, Mum?" Harry almost missed the murmured words, but he heard the most important part: that Ethan didn't want to go to Hogwarts with Harry. He wanted to stay home with his parents, and leave Harry to go to Hogwarts. He didn't want to be seen anywhere with Harry, he wanted to stay with his mother while Lily left like in Diagon Alley, leaving Harry to deal with the vultures…

"Hogwarts… Has its ups and downs. You make your best friends and your worst enemies. You date, you play pranks, and you have fun… Hogwarts was some of the best years of my life… they made me… I - I don't want you to miss out on that."

Lily hadn't mentioned Harry's name throughout that whole passage.

Nobody spoke after that. There was ruffling of sheets as people moved about, trying to get comfortable. Finally, when everyone was settled, Lily began to hum the happiest tune Harry had ever heard, sitting in bed with her family under the stars.

Before he could stop himself, Harry peaked through the door, to see the _whole _family there, cuddled together, smiles on their faces _without him there_. They were so happy without him.

Lily had never been so happy, humming that lullaby, rocking him off to sleep.

Unable to take anymore, Harry sprinted down the hallway and up the stairs to his room, where he flung himself onto his bed. Making sure not to look up at the stars, he curled into a ball and began to hum his own haunting tune.

_-NoR-_

At nine o'clock, a woman arrived at a station so deserted not even the train was there with her boyfriend, daughter and nephews. Taking a spot down the end of the platform, no one could sneak up behind them. The Evans woman didn't like to be surprised.

"You see, Lils, there was nothing to worry about. We're early enough: I told you nobody ever gets here before ten." The boyfriend of the newly-christened-Delilah scoffed at her.

"_Sparrow_, stop calling me that ridiculous nickname. I don't want to be called that – especially not in public and _definitely _not with the kids around." She finished with a wink and a saucy smirk, but the underlying message was clear: anyone could be watching, don't blow cover, even if it looks like there's no one there.

Anyone could be watching.

Harry Potter, nephew of Delilah Evans, watched the scene with a stone face. He'd been cold from the moment he woke up, not even faking a smile when little Patricia had given a parting gift of a thousand pictures he'd seen her draw over the past week. She'd pouted and sulked for a minute, but soon had forgotten about it, going on to give Ethan his own parting gifts.

"Aunt Delilah, why couldn't Mum, Dad and Ava come to see us off?" Ethan Potter asked, pulling at his rainbow pompom beanie. It was the most outlandish thing, however he really didn't want to be spotted. If people looked at his beanie, people wouldn't look at his face. Mum called it 'hiding in plain sight'.

Delilah put her arms around her nephew, causing him to drop his trunk. Sparrow snickered at them, inciting Patricia to laugh as well. Delilah and Ethan ignored them.

"I'm sorry, Ethan, but your mother has work today and Ava's sick – you know your father needs to look after her. But don't worry – you've got us to see you off." She felt Ethan breathe into her shoulder.

"I know," he said. "But I don't like it… Promise you'll write?"

She was about to respond when Harry butted in.

"Awww… Does wittle Efan need to wite to his mummy evewy day? Is he _scawed_? Is he gonna get _homesick_?" Harry was pouting, arms crossed and eyes filled with disgust. He just felt so _angry_. He felt like hitting something. He felt like cursing someone.

Ethan wanted to respond in kind, he really wanted to. He was ready with a witty comeback and everything, just like their usual bickering, when Delilah stepped in.

"Now, now, boys, don't fight. This is a happy day. Don't worry, Harry," she turned to him with a teasing smile. "I love you just as much as Ethan." She walked over to him and tried to hug him – tried to show him that everything was going to be fine. That she'd write to him every day, that it was ok to be scared, that even if he felt homesick no one would care –

But Harry took a step back.

"I don't need a _hug_." He lifted his head high, standing tall, trunk between himself and Delilah. Delilah also stepped back.

"Hey, now!" Sparrow stepped in. "There's no need to take that tone with your m- mother's sister!"

Sparrow was cross to say the least. Harry had been behaving badly all day. At breakfast he had snarled instead of saying good morning and he'd completely snubbed his brother… And now this. He was acting like a stuck-up… eleven-year-old, off to school. Sighing, Sparrow decided it was time to face the music. The boys were off to school – and with that Harry was starting to feel too old for hugs and kisses and parents…

He really should have seen this coming.

"Look, Harry." He walked over to the boy and crouched down in front of him. "Look, kid. I know you're feeling all big and mature now that you're off to school, but you can't keep being rude to people. That's not the way to go in life." Sparrow stared into Harry's eyes, trying to see if he'd made any difference in the child. Harry stared callously back.

"Hey, I'm not your uncle, so it's cool if you don't want to hug me, but don't go ignoring Delilah like that, 'kay? She's awesome and, no matter how old you get, you'll always be her nephew. So go give her a hug." Sparrow finished, aware of how Delilah was looking the other way, pretending to ignore them, while Patricia, Delilah's accidental daughter, was captured in a game of 'round and round the garden' with Ethan, who was studiously disregarding Harry. In the distance, he could hear the train chugging in.

"No!" Harry shouted, eyes suddenly alight with fury and hurt. "I don't want to! You can't make me! You're not my uncle! _She's _not my aunt! And-" Harry stopped abruptly, trying to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. Picking up his bags, he took off down the platform, eventually entering the Hogwarts Express in a cloud of steam.

All he could hear were the disguised James' words pounding through every cell in his brain: '_you'll always be her nephew'_. Harry would never be her, Lily's, son.

_-NoR-_

The family left on the platform were as a whole mildly stunned – what had gotten into their lively Harry? Those cold, frozen eyes – how could they have been Harry's? The Harry who never stood still…

"What's up with Harry?" asked Ethan, full of concern for his brother. As twins, the boys had always been particularly close. Not as close as some, if Severus was right about the Weasley twins, but close nevertheless. Yet Ethan now seemed at loss for why his brother would be acting so out of character. Delilah herself found Harry's behaviour strange – she thought she knew her nephew better.

Sparrow, however, was smiling.

"Don't worry, Lils, everything will be fine. Harry's just growing up… You know how they get…"

Delilah glared at the nickname – people had begun to arrive. However she didn't say anything. Instead she picked up her daughter who had been trying to escape. Distractedly she patted her back, while Patricia played with her dark hair.

Ethan, trying to break the silence, struck up a conversation with Sparrow.

"So, what do you know about the people in my year?"

It was a topic they'd brushed over on many occasions, however Sparrow seized the opportunity to think about something else.

"Well, let's see, apart from the Muggleborns… Well, as you know, Neville's going to be there -"

"Oh but Neville's so boring! He's shy and all he does is look after his plants!" Ethan cut in. Neville was one of the few 'approved playmates' the Potter twins had. The Longbottoms had been in the Order with the Potters and while the two couples had never been friends exactly, being pregnant at the same time had forged a bond between the mothers, which in turn had linked the fathers. Unfortunately, the Longbottoms had been attacked by Death Eaters not long after Voldemort's defeat, driving them mad. Now Neville lived with his grandmother, a strict woman named Augusta Longbottom. The twins had never been very friendly with him – he was a bit timid and they only saw him twice a year – at most. They didn't much like to spend their time with him, however some company was better than none.

Or at least that's what Ethan told himself.

"Don't go on about Neville. Just because he seems a bit stupid and reserved, it doesn't mean it's true. Frank and Alice Longbottom were great Aurors in their time – I'm sure that one day, Neville will be fantastic too. He'll be in Gryffindor with you for sure." Taking a breath, James thought for a second. "Then also in Gryffindor will be a Weasley… Ronald I think he's called? He's something like the ninth Weasley to pass through Hogwarts in the last seven years. If you want to spot him on the platform, look out for a pack of red heads with freckles and hand-me-down clothes – you'll spot him soon enough…" Sparrow though for a moment. Ethan looked enraptured in his talk – even though Sparrow must have given it ten times in the past week alone. Ethan was a good actor – brilliant, even. He wasn't on James' or Lily's level – but they were adults. He wasn't even near Harry's level – but Harry took after Lily in his ability to lie. Sparrow could see as he looked at Patricia that Ava would be the same: Lily, Harry and Ava – liars all three of them. But, he supposed, he and Lily had trained them to be that way. All the Potter children had grown up living lies, acting, pretending… They were so good at it now that most adults would be fooled by Ethan's look of interest, hell; Sirius and Remus were fooled most of the time. As for Harry… Sometimes Harry tricked James.

But Sparrow preferred to play along.

"Then there'll also be the Patil twins – you've heard of them? Parvati and Padma? Half-Indian twins? They'll be in Gryffindor – their mother's side, the Cranes, have been in Gryffindor as long as anyone can remember… That's all I can think of who'll be in Gryffindor…"

Now, Sparrow waited for _the question_. The question was the one asked in some form by every first year child of Hogwarts alumni. Ethan did not disappoint:

"D-Dad? Can I ask you something – something I couldn't ask you with Harry here." He whispered, checking to see no one – specifically his mother – could hear them. Casting _muffliato_ discretely in Lily's direction, James leaned in towards his son.

"Yes, Ethan?"

Ethan took in a deep breath. How would his father react? What would he do if he realised that Ethan might not be who he thought he was? What if he became furious? Or worse, what if he became sad?

"You realise you can tell me anything, don't you, Ethan?"

Nodding, Ethan opened his mouth; here it was, the moment of truth:

"Dad, what if I'm not in Gryffindor?"

James smiled. He couldn't help it. Seeing his son there in front of him, shaking, wondering what would happen if he wasn't 'sorted' right reminded himself of a day… about twenty years ago now… when he himself had asked that very question to his father on a violently stormy day on the first of September…

"Well, I suppose you'd be in Hufflepuff – because you're not smart enough for Ravenclaw, and not poncy enough for Slytherin – and you'd meet Ernest MacMillan, I think his name is, and… Susan Bones, niece of Amelia Bones, brilliant woman, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…" James almost laughed. Ethan's expression – so much for being a brilliant actor. James could read every line on his small, shocked face.

"Bu- But Dad! That's, that's not…"

At this James couldn't help it, he burst out laughing, laughing harder still as Ethan's face morphed from shock to confused to annoyed in a neat second.

Delilah stood beside the two, holding Patricia in her arms, not really looking at anything. Instead she plastered a smile on her face while her brother-in-law, James, and his son had their talk. She hoped Harry was fine.

_-NoR-_

Harry sat in the carriage, just behind the window so nobody could see he was in there. After jumping onto the train, he had moved through the carriages back to where his family was. It wasn't because he wanted to spend his last few minutes with his family – they weren't his family! He just… he just…

He just wanted to see if they acted any different without him there.

Yes, that was it.

As he'd settled into the compartment, he'd heard James talking over all the Gryffindors he knew would be in their year. He'd heard it a thousand times and he rolled his eyes, figuring that Ethan must have asked _again_.

He chose to forget that he himself had asked James that question no less than thirteen times during the past month.

But then Ethan had asked 'something he couldn't ask with Harry there'.

He'd asked what would happen if he wasn't in Gryffindor.

_And he got to call him _Dad _while doing it_.

Harry rather thought his Dad was right – Ethan, his trusting twin, was going to be a Hufflepuff. His twin wasn't ambitious, he wasn't cunning, and so Slytherin was out. Ethan, intelligent? Ravenclaw was a big fat _no_. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were the only _reasonable _options. Harry rather thought Ethan would get into Hufflepuff because of its stupid name.

But after James' laughing fit, Harry had become interested again.

"I know that's not what you meant, Ethan." James said. Harry hated how he was no longer Sparrow. Of course, with Harry there he was Sparrow, however as soon as he left, James returned – and Deli- _Lily_ – just stood there, smiling.

"Look, son." The word cut Harry straight through the chest. "I know you. You're my son, I've raised you, and I _know _you're going to be in Gryffindor. But -" James paused. Harry so wanted to lean out a bit further so he could see Ethan's face, but he restrained himself. "But, on the odd chance that you do sort somewhere else, then know that I'll be proud of you, no matter what you do."

_But will you be proud of me, the son you don't care about?_

"Even if I sort Slytherin?" Ethan's voice was so small and close to tears that Harry almost didn't catch it.

"Of course I will be – you're my son…" James paused a moment, and Harry imagined him tossing the idea of a son in _Slytherin_ around in his head. "But I'd prefer you weren't… But that won't matter, either way. Because you're gonna sort Gryffindor, and so will your brother."

Harry drew away from the window in a sudden jerk. Stiffly picking his trunk up, he dragged it out the door and out along the hallway, trying to get as far away as possible.

To Harry, the underlying message was clear: as long as you're my son, I'll be fine no matter how you get sorted. But as long as you're in this family, you'll be sorted Gryffindor.

But apparently Harry _wasn't _part of the family – so where did that leave him?

Harry, naturally, had been worried about the sorting. It would decide whom he lived with for the next seven years, and have a major impact on his life after that! And he wanted to be with his brother – had wanted to.

Now he wasn't so sure.

After weeks of agonising over how he'd make sure he sorted Gryffindor, weeks of lying in bed, trying to think of ways he'd fight trolls, convince Dumbledore, or whatever it took to sort himself Gryffindor, it was all turned over in a flash – because he wasn't a part of the Potter family, apparently.

Did he even want to be in Gryffindor?

Yes, he decided, because James wasn't fine with Harry, who wasn't his son, sorting anything but Gryffindor.

Finally, somewhere in the middle of the train, he found a nice compartment without chocolate frog wrappers, trunks, wads of chewed gum, or people in it. Clenching his fists, Harry felt his nails dig into the palms of his hands…

"_Tom, is something up?"_

_He looked up, a snarl on his face, ready with a cutting remark, when he saw the soft third year's innocent face. She was a Ravenclaw, he thought, but no matter her house she showed promise – she was said to have an eidetic memory. Top of her year by a mile. She probably would have broken records if he hadn't been in the year above her._

_Moulding his face into one of indecision and doubt, he answered her, "No, everything's fine… Verity? That's your name, right?" He asked her with a casually hopeful grin, knowing he was wrong._

"_N-no. I'm Charity. Charity Burbage." She looked down, mumbling slightly. Allowing his face to blush, he looked so embarrassed._

"_I'm so sorry, Charity. I just have so much on my mind right now – do you think you could help me?" The trying-to-be-casual hope came back, mixed with some nerves._

"_Sure, Tom." Charity's eyes lit up. "I'd love to help you." Almost skipping into the compartment, she made sure to close the door behind her._

"_So, Tom," she said again, seeming to delight in just saying his name, "what do you need help with?"_

_But suddenly he wasn't smiling. Suddenly he was looming over her; eyes flashing red, mouth open revealing pointy teeth in a crocodilian grin._

"_You see, Charity, I need help practicing my spell work."_

"_T-Tom?"_

_She should have learnt that not everything was what it seemed to be._

"_I need to practice my memory charms. You see, it wouldn't do for such a promising, _Muggleborn_, student to remember me in such bad light. But first, a lesson in the unforgiveables is in order."_

_Turning his wand on her, she was stuck. She should have moved. She could have moved, but she was caught like an insect in a spider's web._

_He advanced on her, red light forming at the tip of his wand._

"_You see: it's Mudblood muggle-lovers like you who need to learn their place."_

Harry sat up, sweating. What had happened? Had he dosed off? Had he had another dream? It was an odd dream to have – especially as he was fairly certain his name wasn't Tom. But hadn't something like this happened before, in Diagon Alley…

Before he could think any further he shook himself and looked out the window – the train wasn't moving, so it couldn't have left yet. Sighing, he lifted his weightless trunk onto the luggage rack above him, making sure to get out the latest edition of the Quibbler. It may not be the most factual newspaper, but it always entertained him to say the least. He could make friends later, when there were more people onboard. For now, he was content to read.

_-NoR-_

Waving goodbye, Delilah watched the old train leave with her nephews onboard. She wouldn't see them until _Christmas_ – she didn't know how she'd survive. James was crying, though he tried to hide it, and Patricia was too, though she was loud and exceedingly obvious about the state of her emotions. Delilah herself kept the smiled plastered on.

Thankfully, no one had noticed them, down the end as they were, she and James wearing dark cloaks, and the steam still billowing down this end of the train was more than enough to hide them from sight. Lily truly hated people.

She was thankful Ethan had got on the train before the crowds had truly showed. If Lily hated people, crowds terrified Ethan.

Families chased after the train; people laughing, crying and waving same as them. But Delilah didn't notice them. She was watching for Harry. Was that flash of black hair him? What about that one? Or that one?

Delilah couldn't tell.

The train gradually sped up, finally swooshing past as it left the station for the next four months. But it's rickety wheels echoed through the tunnel long after it had vanished from sight. The platform stood together in a mournful silence for a second, as if waiting for the train to come chugging back. For a second, they were a unit.

But Lily hated crowds.

Angry, Delilah apparated away, taking Patricia with her.

_-NoR-_

"They're gone, aren't they?" Lily asked James that night as they sat in front of the fire in the living room. Lily played with the rug with one hand, the other curled around James' neck and shoulders. They made a pretty picture: James sitting legs out straight, his hands flat on the carpet behind him; Lily on his right, her knees bent, arching over his legs, leaning into him, her head on his shoulder. They sat as they once would have in front of the Gryffindor fireplace, back in the glory days. In their seventh year, when they'd been going out for almost three months and everything had seemed like heaven.

"Yeah, Lils. They're gone."

Ava was upstairs, tucked away in dreamland, while their sons were off in a castle somewhere in Scotland. Their children were far, far away.

Funny, how that had happened. She'd thought they were hers – hers to keep forever. Funny how they didn't give her any warning – one second they were there…

Funny how it was this moment she had been preparing them for all their lives.

Funny how she hadn't thought to prepare herself.

Her boys – Harry and Ethan, Ethan and Harry.

They were hers and they always would be.

"James?" She whispered softly against his bare skin.

"Yeah?" He whispered into her hair.

"You shouldn't have dropped the act today when you were talking to Ethan. You cast muffliato, but only on me. Someone could have heard and then they would have seen it was us…" James thought it a credit to himself and how well he knew his wife that he was only mildly startled. He was, however, also curious.

"How did you know that I became 'James' – as you said, I cast a muffliato on you." He wanted to go on about how Lily was too paranoid – it hadn't even mattered that the boys had entered the station as themselves. Nobody had recognised them – there weren't enough pictures to be recognised, and Lily didn't need to be so overprotective. But James also remembered the crazed look in her eyes the last time he had suggested – screamed at her – that she was being stupid, that they didn't need all this crazy acting, that it was detrimental to the boys' health, let alone Ava's, that she should see a therapist… But James didn't want to see that look in her eyes ever again.

The warm look in her eyes now as she lifted her head slightly was enough for him to not regret not going on. "James," she replied with humour, "I helped Severus make that spell – of course I know when it's being used, and how to fool it…"

Again they drifted into silence, Lily's head dropping back down into thought, before her mind stumbled across something that had been bugging her for… awhile now.

"James?" She whispered again.

"Yeah?" He repeated.

"Do you think I'm too callous?" The 'with them' was an optional add-in. At work she was often described as cold. She had to be. Lily studied the unforgiveables. She hadn't become the top specialist in Europe in the curses by watching butterflies. She'd seen animals put under each curse so many times, too many times. She'd put them under the curses herself even more. At work, she put up a wall of indifference. When she left work she would leave the wall and all behind it there, leaving more of herself each time in the Chamber of Death.

Sometimes, it felt like she was braking apart.

Sometimes, she wished she was Delilah, the carefree twenty-four-year-old. She had played the part of Delilah a few times before. It was the only part she had ever recycled – it was so convenient if she wanted an excuse for being so close to Harry and Ethan. And it reminded her of being twenty-four herself…

"Of course not, dear. You're wonderful with them."

James always said what she needed to hear. He was the perfect husband like that: sweet, charming, such a gentleman…

"How'd I find you?" Lily groaned. "You're too good for me."

But James was not to be deterred.

"Don't be silly. You gave me two wonderful sons, one amazing daughter, but best of all you gave me you. I spent years chasing after you because you are beautiful," he tilted her head up and kissed her forehead, "intelligent," he kissed her cheek, "caring," he kissed her other cheek, "and did I mention beautiful?" he briefly pressed his lips to hers, and she leaned into the kiss but too soon he drew back, smiling. "I love you, Lily. The boys will be fine, you know? There's no need to worry about them, besides: we've still got Ava. I loved you from the moment we met, Lily, and I always will. Don't ever doubt that you're the most precious thing in the world in my eyes."

They drew in for another kiss, and this time Lily managed to push her tongue through to James' mouth. He collapsed onto her and was asleep in seconds.

Without a second glance, Lily picked her cloak up off the couch and walked out the door, her face blank. She made her way hurriedly down the garden path, not noticing that the lights were out.

Lily had never walked the path in the dark since she'd stumbled up the steps one time and broken her ankle. Of course, she'd been drunk at the time but she couldn't tell her children that.

Once she stepped out the gate, Lily vanished.

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

So, here's the second chapter. Next chapter's the Hogwarts express – you won't be hearing again from Lily and James until Christmas at the earliest. Which is good, because it gives me time to figure out what exactly Lily is doing. Lily scares me, a lot. Every now and then, I think I have her, but then she goes and does a crazy thing like drugging her husband and leaves poor little me to figure out why.

Anyway, the next chapter will be out in a week.

Please review; I love all your comments!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Nightmares of Reality**

**Author: Claire (.morbidity)**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Family/Tragedy**

**Pairings: None **(except canon side-pairings between parents like LE/JP)

**Warnings: Possibly eventual murder, insanity, death, torture, in this chapter specifically there's not much at all, except the tiniest bit of Ron&Hermione&Neville bashing, which I don't mean at all, but is needed for the story's progression, and naturally spoilers**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, especially the parts where I've copied and/or paraphrased from Philosopher's stone, which unfortunately will be happening in the beginning chapters but will slowly disappear as the changes become more drastic.**

**Summary: Extended Summary: The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.**

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and please enjoy!

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 3**

As the train finally began to move, Harry was jerked out of his reading by the compartment door opening.

"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

The first thing Harry noted about the person standing in the door was his obviously hand-me-down clothes and belongings. Harry eyed them with a small amount of shock: the trunk was battered, the T-shirt too big, the jeans looked ancient… Harry had never had the pleasure of hand-me-down clothing, except if you counted the times Lily's sister, Petunia, had sent him and Ethan their cousin Dudley's old clothes for their birthday. It hadn't been too bad – James had set them on fire every birthday and Christmas after a day of harassment from the boys – however the situation had become ridiculous when Ava had received Dudley's old baby clothes. A quick owl to Petunia ensured that the Potters were never given anything larger than fifty pence again.

The next thing Harry spotted was the bright red hair. It was mind-blowing. Not deep red like Lily's hair, not strawberry blonde like Ava's, but thick, bright orange clouds were growing from his head.

Then Harry spotted the freckles, and with that, the speck of dirt on the boy's nose.

Shaking his head, Harry wondered aloud, "Did you know that you have a speck of dirt on your nose?" The boy, who had been in the middle of heaving his frail, heavy trunk onto the luggage rack, paused to stare at him. "Right there." Harry pointed at the tip of his own nose. The boy simply blinked, finished shoving the trunk up above, and then sat down to try and scratch it off.

At this moment, two identical redheads sprung into the compartment.

"Hey, little brother." Said one.

"Listen, we're going down the end of the train – Lee Jordan's got a tarantula down there." Continued the other.

"Right," mumbled the boy – whose name was Ron, apparently.

"Hey," The first one spoke again, "You're Harry Potter, aren't you? Wow, it's great to meet you." Something of a star struck look seemed to creep into all of the redheads' eyes at this.

"We're Fred and George, and this is our brother, Ron…" The twin – Harry rather thought they were twins – hadn't gestured as to who exactly Fred and George were, leaving Harry dreadfully confused. So he simply nodded as the dazed twosome stumbled out.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Sighing, Harry nodded. At least there weren't a lot of people like Ron… Although, now that he thought about it… The siblings, red hair, hand-me-down clothing, freckles…

"You're a Weasley, aren't you?" Harry burst out, feeling accomplished as Ron, slightly puzzled, silently agreed. "I knew it!" Harry was rather glad that all his questioning about his year mates was paying off. He was actually getting excited to meet all the others, just so he could guess their names. But hadn't James said the boy's name was Ronald? Ron was probably a nickname…

The two had lapsed into an awkward silence, encouraging 'Ron' to pick up his questioning of Harry.

"So, is that, you know, that thing?" He gestured towards Harry's forehead, a look of awe in his eyes still, mentally rolling his eyes, Harry lifted his fringe for the red-head to see the rotting flesh on the left side of his forehead. The boy would have seen it before – the number of times it had been in the paper, it was almost as many times as the lightning bolt had been. Thankfully, Harry had never quite had the displeasure of being on display like this – they still used the same photograph from when he was one in the Daily Prophet.

"Wicked. So that's where You-Know-Who went?"

"WHAT?" Harry had been so careful, but now this poor, ignorant boy knew without even meeting him? Who else knew? Who had told him? Or had he figured it out himself? How could the boy know that he dreamt from the Dark Lord's perspective?

"You mean it's not true?" The boy carried on, oblivious to Harry's silent panic attack. "Mum always used to say that You-Know-Who's curse rebounded off Ethan because he was so brave and courageous and then when You-Know-Who died he stayed around because he was so evil and tried to possess you in one last attempt to live! He was going to die, because you were also brave and good, but Lily Evans sealed away her master in your flesh, and You-Know-Who lives on, decaying, ready to take over you the minute he's rotted away your entire body… Sorry." Ron's ears turned a nasty shade of red at how caught up he had been in the story. Harry would wager that the boy had been reciting his mother's story word-for-word. And, though it shocked (and slightly scared) him that stories about that night were told often enough to be memorised, it had relieved him to hear that, at least, nobody knew or believed for sure that Harry had a connection with Voldemort – it was just a children's tale to them.

After seeing how _they _had treated Lily, Harry had known he could never, ever, tell _anyone _about the dreams beyond the key factors. He could never confide in anyone that he had dreamt about Voldemort's – not his own – ordeal that night. When people found out that Lily had been spared people had immediately been suspicious of her – the woman spared by Voldemort's mercy was no longer trusted. If they discovered that Harry could remember casting the final curse at his own brother, his own title of a 'Boy-Who-Lived' would turn ugly.

But to know that people had _guessed_… It was scary. To know that his biggest secret was regarded as a fairytale, however, was reassuring.

Harry turned his head, trying to ignore the boy's stares, and pointedly watched the river they were passing over. Yet the boy was persistent.

"So you remember stuff about that night, yeah? In dreams, right?"

The mention of dreams left Harry with a queasy feeling in his stomach and he turned his head to the boy, desperately hoping that he wasn't glaring because he really didn't want to alienate the boy…

But Ron thankfully got the picture and began fiddling with his pockets.

But now the queasy feeling was developing into an out-right panic attack. What was Harry supposed to do? He didn't want to offend the Weasley boy, but he really didn't want to talk about anything he wanted to talk about, and Harry didn't particularly feel like talking, anyway. But Harry also knew, in his head that most people liked talking, but what should he talk about anyway? Harry didn't talk much – no one in his family did because they did basically everything together and their mother couldn't talk about her work so sometimes they played games and such, but they never really _talked_ and when they saw Neville, he was too shy to do anything, and Luna didn't talk unless it was about something nobody else knew anything about so Harry really hadn't had much practice with this sort of thing. Why did he have to come here? Why couldn't he stay home forever? He missed home, he wanted to go home, he wanted his Dad-

But James didn't want him, did he?

Harry took a deep breath and let a shiver chill his body, closing off. Ron was a hero-worshipping idiot, anyway. Harry didn't need to talk to him. He could just sit here, ignore him, wait for him to leave, then just get out the Quibbler again. He could make friends after he'd been sorted… Harry steered his head away from any thoughts of sorting, quickly travelling down a different path… He took out the Quibbler, thinking that maybe the boy would get the idea and leave as soon as possible. Unfortunately this was not to be the case.

"Hey, what's that?" He asked, his tone still nervous. Harry himself was sighing inside – apparently Ron _wouldn't _take a hint. Meeting his eyes, Harry answered in as bored a tone as possible, trying to not show just how anxious he was as well.

"The Quibbler – you know, the newspaper?"

Ron seemed to think for a moment, enlightenment splaying across his face as he remembered.

"Oh – that's the magazine run by the Lovegoods, isn't it?" Harry slowly nodded, but Ron continued before he could say anything. "Aren't they kinda weird? Ginny, my sister, sometimes visits their daughter, Loony or something, and she says they're all completely bonkers."

Harry was becoming excited now – they were finally speaking about something Harry could say something on! He let all feelings of coldness go as he spoke in a rush, trying to say as much as possible in the shortest amount of time.

"Yeah, they are a bit… So, you're Ginny's brother? Li- my mother's friends with Selene Lovegood. They work together, so every now and then we see them. Luna's the girl's name. Sure, she's quite odd, but she's nice enough. She mentions Ginny sometimes…"

Ron also seemed delighted to be able to speak about something.

"You're friends with the Lovegoods? Wow, Ginny will be pleased – shocked, but pleased. Ginny's always been obsessed with both you and Ethan – by the way, do you know where your brother is? I'd really, really like to meet him…"

And just like that, Harry felt the conversation go stale. Why did Ron insist on bringing up uncomfortable subjects at every clear second? And why did the boy have to bring up _Ethan_?

Ron's tact must have finally kicked in, because he didn't say anything again until the lady with the snacks came around. However, he also didn't leave, but Harry figured you couldn't have everything.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" The rosy-cheeked woman peered into their compartment, her eyes catching Harry and filling with wonder.

"Harry Potter, an honour to meet you." She reached out her hand and Harry reluctantly shook it with his own. "I saw your brother earlier, and it's an honour to meet you both." She then insisted on giving Harry free snacks, waving away any attempts at paying, before leaving him to deal with a Ron who could do nothing but stare at the food. Yet Ron took out some sandwiches from his bag, mumbling something about his Mum packing them, and hating the corned beef she had given him.

Here Harry began to get panicky again. What was the correct social etiquette here? Was he supposed to offer food, or wait until he was asked for it? Would it be considered too overbearing to tell him to eat some, too close for a stranger? What if he asked to trade? But Harry himself hated corned beef and he really didn't want to eat any, so would it be considered rude if he traded and didn't eat them.

Figuring he should go with the safest option, he ate a little bit, leaving the rest on the table. Ron could take some if he wanted it. Picking up a chocolate frog, he carefully unwrapped it. He had always been wary with the little buggers, even though he loved them, since the day it had jumped at his eyes and managed to smear his glasses with chocolate. Grabbing it quickly, Harry bit off its head, stuffing the rest back in the wrapping for later. Pulling out the card, he sighed.

"Who'd you get?" Ron was staring at him again with hopeful eyes that made Harry feel like he should be doing something else.

"Dumbledore." He said quickly. Studying the boy, he was about to ask if he wanted it, but the boy deflated in front of him.

"D-do you collect?" The boy probed at him, and Harry tried to figure out why he was asking. Since Ron didn't want Dumbledore, Harry had assumed he didn't, but then again everybody had Dumbledore: he was even more common than Merlin! Cautiously, Harry nodded his head and Ron seemed to rise again.

"Then, if you see Ptolemy or Agrippa, could I have them?" His words were almost a whisper, but Harry saw this as an opportunity.

"Sure, take as many frogs as you want. Or anything, really." Harry briefly wondered if he sounded like someone being held up in a dark corner of Knockturn Alley, with thuggish trolls asking him for money. It sounded like it to him.

But Ron didn't seem to notice as he gave Harry a grateful smile, digging in to the chocolate.

As they passed the trip munching in silence, a knock was heard at the door. And in came Neville Longbottom, crying.

"Harry? H-hi, sorry to bother you, but h-have you seen my t-toad?" His voice was as annoyingly whiny as ever, except more so because he was crying. Harry vaguely remembered that Neville had been given a toad from some uncle or other after his first show of magic. While all the Longbottoms had been a jubilant mix of shocked and happy, Harry and Ethan had laughed at the boy behind his back: ten years was a long time to wait for magic to show. Then James had gone all good-parent on them, reprimanding them, saying they should be nice to Neville, but Harry knew that James looked down on Neville too.

Turning to Ron, Harry could see he looked surprised that not only the crazy Lovegoods knew the Potters, but the snivelling boy as well. Harry almost groaned. It mustn't be good to be associated with the likes of Neville Longbottom. Wonderstruck Weasley was bad enough. Harry thought he could feel the superiority rolling of Ron at the thought that Harry and Neville were on first-name terms. Harry bet Ron was thinking, '_So Harry's not that great, being friends with _that_.'_ Harry tried to think of something to say, what could he say to make both Ron and Neville know that he wasn't Neville's friend?

"No, Longbottom, I haven't seen your toad – the fat thing's probably jumped off the train and been squished under the tracks." Harry tried to sneer, but all he could feel was anxiety, wondering if it had come out right. At that point Neville ran away, crying even more, so Harry figured he must have done at least something right.

"Bit harsh, don't you think? Mind you, he kind of was annoying. Do you know him?" Ron looked at him with a slight frown resting on his brow. Harry rather thought Ron seemed to be testing him, trying to figure something out. But Ron's face didn't suit the look at all.

"Yeah, family friends. Have to endure him and his toad every get-together." Harry didn't mention that, as some of their only company, Neville had often been a welcome break from the monotony of his home. Harry really didn't want to look like he liked Neville in any way. Because then Ron would think he was like Neville and then Ron would think he was too cool for him and then he would tell everyone how uncool Harry Potter was and then _nobody _would like him…

"Don't know why he bothered bringing a toad – if I'd brought one, I'd lose it as quickly as possible. Then again, I can't say anything – I don't have a pet at all!" He finished the sentence morosely. It seemed to Harry that the boy really wanted a pet – though Harry couldn't see the good in it. The Potters didn't own any pets – not even a family owl. Nobody thought a pet was worth having to feed it and groom it all the time. There was no need for an owl, as they so rarely had any letters they needed to send. On the rare occasions that they did, such as acceptance letters to certain schools of witchcraft and wizardry, they would borrow Siri's owl, the lovely lady Frankenstein. Nobody in the home wanted a toad, and whenever anyone mentioned anything vaguely rodent-y, the adults tended to get twitchy (which was, admittedly, quite fun to watch from time to time, especially if Siri was there to start cursing and James to glare at him. Harry and Ethan would always…), and Siri always acted strangely around cats – Siri maintained it was to do with his animagus form, but Harry had always had trouble believing that, mainly because James and Remi would always be snorting with laughter as he muttered it, glaringly trying to ignore the two. So really, it was all Siri's fault that they didn't have a pet…

Having grown up without any interest in having a pet, neither Harry nor Ethan had thought to want one, let alone ask their parents.

Although, now that Harry thought about it, it seemed that Lily had a pet. Maybe James just didn't like pets, and that was why he was uncomfortable around Lily's 'Stuff'. Then again, the wisp was kind of freaky to be around, Harry could certainly understand being creeped out by it, especially when it _moved_…

Harry vaguely realised that Ron was looking around awkwardly, and that perhaps to avoid the silences and thus social awkwardness, he should try talking. He was beginning to understand that he was expected to actually _talk_ to these people if he wanted them to have a good opinion of him… Which left Harry questioning whether or not he cared about Ron's opinion of him. He didn't particularly _like _the boy, but he also didn't want to make any _enemies_…

Harry was drawn out of his conundrum by the compartment door sliding open again, and Harry barely kept himself from groaning: Neville was back, but this time he'd brought support. In the doorway was a girl with lots of bushy brown hair, already wearing her Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she announced in a bossy voice.

But Neville, upon seeing who was in the compartment, said, "Never mind, Hermione." He began to try to drag the girl away and keep himself from crying at the same time. "Already asked them."

But the girl wasn't to be deterred.

"Are you sure you haven't seen the toad?" Her voice was now reproachful, however as her gaze sifted through the compartment, she, of course, focused on Harry.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you!" It wasn't a question. Giving Harry no time to respond, she continued. "I'm Hermione Granger. I know all about you and your family, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you and Ethan are in _Modern Magical History _and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

She sped through her little paragraph at a hundred miles an hour, leaving Harry waiting at the start, wondering where she'd disappeared to. But he grasped enough to know that she obviously hadn't lived her whole life in the Wizarding world… and _the Potter family_ was still assumed knowledge.

"You're Muggleborn, aren't you?" Harry wondered aloud, trying to ignore the growing pounding in his head screaming, '_get out! You have wronged me! You know nothing about us! No one, least of all your stupid books, knows everything about…' _

"Yes, nobody in my family's magical at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - why aren't you sitting with your brother, by the way? I saw him in another compartment. And who are you?" She asked towards Ron. Neville had obviously seen that Hermione wasn't going to give up on Harry and had left midway through her tirade, rather than have Harry go at him again. But now Harry was starting to feel bad, he hadn't meant to hurt Neville too much. He was, after all, the only boy his age outside of Ethan he'd ever met… He studiously ignored Hermione's question, leaving Ron to answer her.

"I'm Ron Weasley." Ron muttered, looking quite putout as Hermione gave him a slight nod, before rounding on Harry again.

"Do you know what house you'll be in?" She hounded at him again, seemingly forgetting about her previous question, staring down at him, reminding him of the reporters from when he was small, and then again of the vultures in Diagon Alley, staring down at him with beady eyes, wanting, wanting, wanting… "I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, I'd better go an look for Neville's toad – oh, he's gone, I'd better catch up to him. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And with that she left.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron, basically summing up Harry's thoughts entirely. Who was that girl to say she _knew _him, when all she'd ever done was read a few measly books? Harry could barely believe he was agreeing with the Weasley boy who'd seemed so impossibly star struck when he'd first met him, was turning out to be an alright person…

"Your brothers are in Gryffindor, right?" asked Harry, tentatively. He didn't want to offend Ron, and the question might be too personal, but Ron latched onto it.

"Gryffindor," he said, with a certain gloom about him. "Mum and Dad, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw _would _be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin… Of course, you and Ethan will be in Gryffindor." He finished, lightening up.

Just as Harry's hopes had been raised at Ron and him sharing some views and seeming to accept him, Harry's hopes crumbled to dust. Ron was just as bad as the Muggleborn girl, whatever her name was. Ron was also _assuming_ what house he would be in – he barely even knew him and he was judging on _stories _his _Mummy _had probably told him at night to keep the _bad dreams _away. Ron wouldn't know anything about bad dreams. He'd probably have a dream about pixies attacking him and run crying to _Mummy_, who'd tell him a story about brave Gryffindors and make everything better. Harry knew everything about nightmares. The screaming, the flashing pain, the breaking apart, the burning pain…

But Harry hadn't screamed, the night before Hogwarts.

Looking down, to keep Ron from seeing his burning eyes, Harry said, "Yeah, all the Potter family are Gryffindors."

_Gryffindor… home of the daring and chivalrous, the brave, the courageous, those with nerve and spirit and honour…_

_What did Harry know of honour?_

_Lies, lies, lies…_

_What did Lily know of honour?_

_Lies, lies, lies…_

_What did even little Ava know of honour?_

_Lies, lies, lies…_

_James and Ethan would never be as good as Harry, Lily and Ava at lying…_

_Lies…_

_Where was the honour in a lie?_

_Maybe once, Lily was honourable, brave and daring…_

_Now she was remote, uncaring, distant…_

_She lied…_

_Harry lied…_

"I really want to be a Gryffindor." Harry finished, ending the conversation in favour of staring out the window, letting a frigidity he had learnt from Lily settle over him.

They were silent for a long time.

Harry set on ignoring the boy who had assumed so much about him, had seen him as nothing more than a story, a myth, a picture in the paper…

Ron didn't notice anything.

_-NoR-_

The compartment door slid open yet again, this time to reveal three boys, two of them huge trollish thugs, obviously acting as bodyguards for the much shorter wizard in the middle. The short wizard was pale in every sense of the word. He had almost white skin, with hair such a light blonde Harry almost thought it was dyed, and eyes a light bluey-grey colour. His face was sharp and pointed, and his hair slicked back from his face.

He, too, was looking at Harry, but he looked more interested than awed.

"Is it true?" He said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So you're it, are you?"

"Yes." Harry said, staring at the three. The pale boy could be none other than Draco Malfoy – especially with his superior attitude that Harry had heard about so much from Siri (who was the cousin of the boys' parents, if Harry's guess was correct). And if the boy was a Malfoy, the two bodyguards had to be Crabbe and Goyle.

Certain, Harry made his guesses known.

"Those two are a Crabbe and a Goyle, aren't they?" Harry stated, vaguely pointing at the two, not really gesturing as to which was which: was the spiky hair a Crabbe trait or a Goyle trait? Harry couldn't remember. "And you must be Draco Malfoy."

The Malfoy boy had been about to say something when Harry had spoken, and while at first he had looked a bit annoyed at being interrupted, he had looked pleased at Harry knowing his name.

"Yes, Potter," he said, and was obviously about to continue when he heard Ron snigger. Turning to face Ron, who was trying to hide his snigger as a cough, he stared down at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask whom you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford." Ron seemed to boil a bit as the pale boy turned back to Harry.

"You haven't been around for a while, Potter, being holed up by your parents, but obviously you've realised that some families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand, and Harry saw opportunity flash before his eyes. Obviously, Malfoy could introduce him to the _right _sort of people. The sort who wouldn't look at Harry and think of him as a good bedtime story. The sort who wouldn't look at him and see nothing but his scar-of-sorts. The sort who would care about _Harry_, not his fame. The sort who wouldn't _assume_ anything about Harry.

_And perhaps the sort who would accept him, where his family wouldn't._

Standing up, Harry shook Malfoy's hand.

"I appreciate it, Malfoy."

Malfoy gave the tiniest of smiles, and ordered Crabbe to pick up Harry's trunk and move it into their compartment. The boy was doing so, when Ron seemed to come out of his shock.

"What? You're not gonna just believe him, are you?"

Ron looked ready to boil over, his burning red skin clashing horrible with his hair. Malfoy, on the other hand, smirked at him as he led Harry out the door.

"You see, Potter, the perfect example of the riff-raff you shouldn't hang around is the Weasleys. They're-"

But Harry never heard what Draco was going to say because at that moment, Ron shouted, "You take that back!"

Sniggering, Harry followed the sauntering boy out the compartment, leaving Goyle to take up the rear end. As they walked down the corridor, Harry thought he could hear the rustling of lolly papers, a sure sign that Goyle had taken some of those that had once been on the table. Harry didn't mind. They'd been free, and he hadn't been eating them anyway.

As they walked, Harry learnt a lot about Draco. The most important thing Harry learnt about Draco was that he liked to talk. A lot. And his favourite subject to talk about was himself, closely followed by his father. Harry also learnt that Draco loved Quidditch, preferring to play seeker, and supported the Magpies in Quidditch. He discovered that Draco's favourite colour was teal, which was extremely unfortunate as Draco apparently looked horrible in the colour. His father knew just about everything and a little bit more, and when Draco grew up, he wanted to be just like him (Draco hadn't said it, but Harry had gathered it from the five solid minutes Draco had used to sing sonnets about him).

When they finally reached the compartment, Harry thought he knew just about everything there was to know about Draco Malfoy.

"Crabbe, put his trunk in the rack. Everyone, I'd like you to meet Harry Potter."

And indeed, everyone turned their gaze to Harry, who immediately froze at the sudden stares, however the moment passed in a second, as a pug-nosed girl at the front of the group smiled warmly at him.

"Hi Harry, I'm Pansy, Pansy Parkinson. It's a pleasure to meet you." She reached out her hand to him, and when Harry shook it she pulled him down next to her. At his shocked look, she just laughed.

Draco, however, frowned. "Crabbe, Goyle. You sit over that side. Budge up, you lot, I'll sit next to Harry so he doesn't feel overwhelmed by all the new people."

While Harry appreciated the sentiment, he had only just met Draco and wasn't sure it would be all that helpful. But the group seemed to grudgingly reshuffle their seating arrangements to accommodate to Draco's whim. Then the introductions recommenced.

"I'm Theodore Nott." A weedy looking boy next to Crabbe said, reaching out his hand across the table to Harry. "It's great to meet you."

"I'm Daphne Greengrass, I can't wait to spend more time at Hogwarts together." Daphne had a heart-shaped face so open and lovely Harry doubted she could wish harm on a butterfly. Harry nodded at her, and she smiled, dimples in her cheeks.

"And I'm Megan _Jones_." A girl with curly brown hair said to him from beside Pansy, leaning across her to shake his hand. "Gwenog Jones is my sister." She smiled at Harry in a way that completely scared him. As he looked at her, he saw her want to _use _him, use her connection with the captain of the Holyhead Harpies to get him to be friends with her so she could make friends with more people…

But looking around the compartment, they were obviously all friends here. Harry wouldn't want to offend the rest of the group who had been nice to him by calling out Megan's less-than-wholesome ideas. Besides, it would be better to ignore her. He wasn't a fan of Gwenog Jones, and he knew celebrities weren't all they were pumped-up to be. He could ignore Megan.

Ignoring things tended to keep them from bothering him.

"So, what house do you want to be in?" Harry asked, turning the conversation away from Megan. He thought he knew, but he figured it would be politer to ask. After all, he hadn't liked Weasley assuming that he would be a Gryffindor.

Harry wasn't surprised when the group chorused "Slytherin."

"It's really the best house there is, Harry." Said Draco, smiling at him. Harry smiled back. He wondered if this was what it was like to have friends.

"Yeah, from what I've seen I'd have to agree with you." Harry said, thinking back to Weasley – who would be Gryffindor, Longbottom – whose ridiculous name deserved no lower than Hufflepuff and Granger – whose textbook obsession would fit well in Ravenclaw.

"Slytherin does seem to be the best."

He tried to keep all thoughts of the Potters away, lest he break down crying in front of his new friends.

"Seem?" Pansy giggled from next to him. "Harry, we _are _the best."

And she said it with such pomp and grandeur that Harry couldn't help cracking a smile, all thoughts of _them_ leaving his mind.

"Of course we are." Harry said, loving the way 'we' rolled off his tongue. They were a group, they were one. Harry was a part of them.

Crabbe and Goyle sat still, and Harry rather thought they couldn't understand words more complex than 'stay', 'go', 'food' and 'eat'. Meanwhile, the rest of the group were smiling and laughing as well, though Harry made a point to avoid looking at Megan.

Looking at the time, however, Theodore brought the group moment to an end.

"Uh, guys, we'll be arriving soon. Harry, you and I had best get changed." Looking out the window, Harry saw that it was getting really late. In fact, the train seemed to be slowing down.

"No time." Draco said solemnly. Giving Harry a considering look, he asked, "Do you have your robes on hand?" Harry shook his head, while Theodore pulled his own robes out of his pocket, which was apparently bigger than it looked.

"No, and all the trunks have gone!" Harry's voice rose as he realised the last bit. With the trunks disappeared, Harry would have nothing to wear. He bet everyone would laugh at him in his Muggle clothes, and then his new friends would turn on him and laugh even more…

"You're about the same size as me." Draco said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Here, you can use my spare set."

Harry didn't have time to thank Draco as the robes were shoved over his head and pulled over him. They were a bit tight around the arms, but other than that, the robes fit perfectly.

"You can thank me later, for now let's go." Draco commanded, hushing Harry's pathetic attempts as he hurried the group out the door and off the train. They descended onto a tiny, dark platform, barely lit by one tiny lamp bobbing closer and closer…

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! Firs' years!"

A giant of a man loomed over the group. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting under the light of the lamp, blazing down at them.

Harry gulped, barely repressing a squeak. Daphne didn't. While Pansy comforted her, Harry inched away from the man slightly, turning to whisper to Draco, "Who's that?"

Draco, looking up at the man in terror, shook himself, before answering, also in whisper.

"I think I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, or something. I've heard he's absolutely _savage_. He lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed. His name's Har-gid, or something."

The name sparked something in Harry's memory, and he was trying to remember what it was when suddenly the man loomed down at him.

"Harry! Las' time I saw you, you and yer brother were only babies. My, you've grown."

And then Harry remembered where he'd heard the name.

"You're _Hagrid_? The school groundskeeper?" The man beamed a toothy grin down at him in a way Harry found mildly terrifying.

"Yep, that's me. We can talk later, Harry. C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" And the hairy man led the sea of 'firs' years' down a steep, narrow path.

Most people were silent, however Harry took the opportunity to whisper to Draco, "J- My father and his friends have spoken about him before… They never mentioned he was so big, though…"

The rest of the trip was spoken without a word, until Hagrid said, "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here."

At the sight of the castle, everyone gasped.

The path had opened up to reveal a big, black lake. On the other side of the lake was a huge mountain, and atop the mountain was a vast castle, lit up under the starry sky. It looked beautiful.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a collection of boats by the shore. Draco quickly latched onto Harry, as did Pansy, who was still latched onto Daphne, deciding their group. Theodore and Megan joined a boat with Crabbe and Goyle after Draco had had a word with his bodyguards, and they all clambered into their boats. Off in the distance, Harry could see Weasley, Longbottom and Granger getting into a boat with somebody he couldn't recognise. He couldn't' see Ethan anywhere – come to think of it, he hadn't seen the boy all train trip.

_Ethan probably thinks he's too _good _to come see me, the unwanted son. After all, Ethan's the _Boy-Who-Lived_… He's better than me, the _Boy-Who-Happened-To-Be-There_…_

"Everyone in?" Shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the boats moved forwards, everyone tense, but no one daring to break the silence. Everything was eerily still and Harry found himself twitching and shifting. He couldn't stand this frozen stillness. He wanted movement, action, something…

But the boats just glided along, like ice.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled, which Harry was thankful for. If Hagrid hadn't broken the silence, Harry would have had to rock the boat or jump in or do something else that was completely mad. They had reached a cliff and everyone ducked their heads through a curtain of ivy, as the boats took them through the opening in the mountain, under the castle and into a little harbour, where the boats stopped. Once they arrived, Harry was the first to spring out of his boat onto the pebbled ground, alive from the nerves in his stomach. Harry bounced up and down on the spot as he waited for the rest of the group to get out of the boats.

As Hagrid shouted something about a toad to Longbottom, Harry tried to spot Ethan in the crowd of eleven-year-olds, but couldn't find him. Harry was really starting to worry about him, when Daphne tapped him on the shoulder.

"Harry? What's up?" She asked softly, her warm face so inviting Harry found he couldn't say no to her.

"I haven't seen Ethan since we got on the train this morning. I'm starting to get worried about him…"

Daphne smiled comfortingly at him. "Don't worry, I saw him on the train, and I think Draco spoke to him at some point. He's fine. You'll see him once we get sorted."

And with that they were clambering up a passageway after Hagrid's lamp, coming up to some grass at the bottom of a flight of stone steps. At the top of the steps was a huge oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

As the doors swung open, everyone was treated to their first view of Hogwarts. It was huge – you could have fitted Remi's cottage in it twenty times and still have room to spare! Flaming torches lit passageways, and the ceiling was too high to see from outside. The walls were of solid stone, with paintings covering just about every corner, and a magnificent marble staircase led to the upper floors.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid, for there, in the doorway, was a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes. She looked stern – not at all someone to cross. Professor McGonagall walked seemed the type to walk briskly, however she walked at a comfortable pace so that all the first years kept up as she led them to a small empty chamber off the hall. Crowded in there, Harry was shoved between Draco and Pansy, with Daphne in front of her and Theo and Crabbe behind Harry. It was extremely uncomfortable, but the first years as a whole had decided it best to give the Professor a _lot _of space. With all the people around him, Harry felt his breath hitch. He had never been surrounded by so many people. What was he supposed to do? He could feel his heartbeat, his face draining of colour. Harry didn't pay attention to the Professor's words. All he could think about was the bodies pushing him, squeezing him, drowning him…

Finally, the Professor left the room and the children spread out. Harry began to breath normally again, looking around to see if anyone had noticed his panic attack. If they had, they didn't show it, as a few other people also looked very worried. Harry looked down, trying to school his face into one not affected by the crowd, which would also be one not worried at all about the sorting. Harry didn't notice that anyone was shouting at him until Daphne tapped him on the shoulder.

"Harry, your brother's calling you."

"Wha?" Harry's head shot up, scanning the room for Ethan, finally finding him over in a corner, and looking quite pale as well. Suddenly Harry realised he wasn't the only one who had been terrified by the crowd. "Ethan?" Harry looked at his brother with an odd mix of dread and elation. The last time he'd seen Ethan had been before getting on the train to Hogwarts and Harry still wasn't pleased with him. But a familiar face was very much welcome at that moment.

"Harry!" Ethan called back with a smile, weak though it was. "I haven't seen you all train ride. Mum and Dad were worried when they didn't see you again. Where were you?"

And with that, Harry's relief disintegrated completely. _Yeah, I bet _Mum_ and _Dad_ were worried, just like _Mum_ won't kill you for referring to the fact that she and _Dad_ were at the station._

"Around." Harry said, letting a coolness wash over his voice. But Ethan didn't seem to notice as he made his way over to Harry. Harry knew he thought that Harry was only acting like this because of all the people. Which was a little bit true, but it wasn't the whole story.

"It's scary, huh?" Ethan whispered to him, an arm around his shoulder. "But don't worry, they're not as bad as they seem. I-"

Harry never heard what Ethan was going to say, because at that moment, Harry noticed the disapproving stare Draco was giving him, and shrugged Ethan's arm off his shoulder. Harry had thought people would love the precious _Boy-Who-Lived_, but apparently Draco and the Slytherins weren't so delusional. Harry was seeing more and more how lucky he was to have made friends with these people, who wouldn't put the Potters' expectations onto him…

"I don't need your help, _Ethan_. Just because you're scared, it doesn't mean we all are. Just because you haven't met anyone worth hanging around so far, doesn't mean I haven't." Harry sneered down at Ethan, and was rewarded with Daphne clutching draping her own arm across his shoulder, and Draco's own approving nod.

"Yeah, Potter. Harry's _our _friend." She said, smiling sweetly at him. But Harry was shocked to see the caring face holding a twist of something mean and sinister. Harry didn't know how it was possible – he'd thought Daphne was delicate, soft-hearted and gentle like the flower she was named for, but Daphne was acting anything but.

"Harry, don't you know who they are? They're going to be _Slytherins_!" Ethan looked at Harry, shocked and hurt, like he couldn't understand why Harry would ever associate with anyone _he _didn't approve of. But Harry was his own person, just because his _twin _wanted something, it didn't mean Harry would give it to him. Harry was his own person, and he wouldn't be bossed around by Ethan, just because Ethan was the Boy-Who-Lived, just because the Potters preferred Ethan…

"Yeah, and they're the only decent people I've _ever _met. So I think I'll be a Slytherin, too." As he said this, the Slytherins surrounded him, even Megan, sneering at the _Boy-Who-Lived_, supporting Harry. And Harry found that he didn't mind it.

But Ethan looked horrified.

"Harry, you don't know what they're like, they called someone a- a" Ethan looked around the room, realising that everyone was staring at him. Glancing nervously around, he mouthed the word, '_Mudblood'_. The people who could read his lips looked horrified, and soon whispers were circling the room, about how Draco Malfoy had called Justin Finch-Fletchley a Mudblood on the train, and how the Boy-Who-Lived (who had been sitting with Malfoy) had at that point stunned the boy and walked out with Justin. There were whispers about the Boy-Who-Lived must have been specially trained from birth and must be amazing at magic by now…

Although they tried to hide their whispers, Harry could hear them as clear as day.

Shocked, though he tried to hide it, Harry tried to process how the people he'd thought were so nice could call someone such a horrible word. But now James' words came back to him how the Malfoys, and just about all Slytherins, were prejudiced against those with 'impure' blood… But they'd been so nice to him, and they must know he was a half-blood! Finch-Fletchley was probably being really annoying, and besides, they'd been so nice to him. He really didn't want to push away those who were right now his only friends. He could feel them slightly inch away from him, trying to see how he'd react, and Harry knew he'd have to say something, because right now he'd do anything to keep their friendship.

"I don't see what's wrong with that." Harry lifted his head, fire burning in his eyes. "Finch-Fletchley is nothing but a good-for-nothing _M-Mudblood _after all."

The room gasped, but Harry could feel the smirks growing on the Slytherins faces around him. Harry grinned as well. He'd done right. He had friends. Everything was wonderful…

Even Ethan's horrified face did nothing to sour his mood. He told himself he didn't feel the slightest bit of regret, because really, as long as the Slytherins were with him, he'd be fine. They'd show him people who wouldn't care about his fame…

And with their help, he'd be better than Ethan could ever dream to be. The Potters would be sorry they'd cast him out.

The first years waited in silence for the rest of the time.

"The Sorting Ceremony is about to start. First years, form a line and follow me." Professor McGonagall entered the room, smartly ordering them about, though Harry thought she looked slightly frazzled at the deathly silence among the students. But nonetheless the students got into line, following the Professor through the doorway, into the Great Hall.

Harry had never seen anything so wonderful. It was huge, gargantuan, the biggest room Harry had ever seen. It was strange and splendid all at once: A thousand candles floating in the air, lighting up the room under a star-filled ceiling. Up above, Harry could hear a choir of ghosts singing them welcome, with a few students joining in. In the room were four long tables, filled with students under house flags, and at the front a table for the teachers. In the centre of the table, Harry could see Professor Dumbledore, and next to him, Professor Snape, Harry's godfather. When Snape spotted Harry, he sneered at him, and Harry suddenly remembered Snape's warning not to sort Slytherin. Why had his godfather sent it? So he wouldn't have to deal with Harry, for, Harry lurched as he realised, if Harry sorted Slytherin with his friends, Snape would be his head of house.

Harry refused to let himself look at the ocean of students on the tables below. He'd probably do something stupid like faint, and then people would probably laugh at him, and the Slytherins wouldn't want to be his friend.

Harry finally noticed that Professor McGonagall had placed a stool with an old, frayed hat on it in front of them. Harry was beginning to wonder what it was for – and how they would be sorted. It was probably something to do with the hat, but how a hat could tell anything…

'_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
>But don't judge on what you see,<br>I'll eat myself if you can find  
>A smarter hat than me.<em>

_You can keep your bowlers black,  
>Your top hats sleek and tall,<br>For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
>And I can cap them all.<em>

_There's nothing hidden in your head  
>The Sorting Hat can't see,<br>So try me on and I will tell you  
>Where you ought to be.<em>

_You might belong in Gryffindor,  
>Where dwell the brave at heart,<br>Their daring, nerve and chivalry  
>Set Gryffindors apart;<em>

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
>Where they are just and loyal,<br>Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
>And unafraid of toil;<em>

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
>If you've a ready mind,<br>Where those of wit and learning,  
>Will always find their kind;<em>

_Or perhaps in Slytherin  
>You'll make your real friends,<br>Those cunning folk use any means  
>To achieve their ends.<em>

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
>And don't get in a flap!<br>You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
>For I'm a Thinking Cap!'<em>

As the self-proclaimed Sorting Hat finished it's song the hall burst into applause. Harry was relieved – he only had to try on a hat. He was sure he could convince the hat to put him into Slytherin. He was by no means brave or chivalrous, and neither was he loyal or particularly hard working… He wasn't particularly interested in reading or learning…

Really, Slytherin was the only place for him.

But the thunderous applause caused Harry to look up, and saw thousands of students staring straight at him.

Harry stiffened, his fingers twitching sporadically, he couldn't breath…

But as the hall turned towards Professor McGonagall, Harry realised they hadn't been staring at him, but rather the first years as a whole. He sighed in relief as Professor McGonagall said, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"

And thus, the sorting began.

Upon hearing her name called, a pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails tripped up to the hat, and put it on. There was only a short pause before the hat cried –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" And above, from the ceiling, came a huge explosion of yellow fireworks, golden petals raining down on the girl, showing the way to her new table, which was clapping madly. The girl's eyes lit up as she made her way down the path, and was welcomed merrily to her new home.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted again, resulting in another explosion of yellow.

The sorting continued; Terry Boot inciting blue fireworks, and gaining a blue-petalled path to Ravenclaw, Mandy Brocklehurst following him and Lavender Brown going to Gryffindor. Harry lost track of the sorting at this point, though he notice that 'Millicent Bulstrode' went to Slytherin, as did Crabbe and Goyle (whose first names he found out were, respectively, Vincent and Gregory) and Tracey Davis also joined them. Daphne became a Slytherin, but Megan became, of all things, a Hufflepuff. There were no other surprises (Malfoy was sorted Slytherin before the hat could touch his head), before Ethan was called.

"Potter, Ethan!"

Harry watched Ethan step forward, without even glancing Harry's way, and watched the whispers break out among the students.

"_Potter, _did she say?"

"_The _Ethan Potter?"

But Ethan paid no mind to them, shoving the hat over his head…

In under a minute the hat had called out "GRYFFINDOR!" And he was on his way down a petalled path to the house of his family. Harry glared at him as he went, but didn't have time to continue his campaign before his own name was called.

Though he could hear the hissing whispers follow him, Harry seemed blank to them. Like a ghost, he glided towards the Sorting Hat, slipping it over his eyes so he couldn't see what was going on.

"Hmm…" A small voice in his ear said, causing Harry to jump slightly. "What have we here? Oh, don't worry; I see lots of ambition in you… Oh, yes, you have ambition in droves. A thirst to prove yourself… Not a bad mind, Ravenclaw isn't all about books, boy… And you can be hardworking and courageous when you put your mind to it… Hmmm, so where should I put you?"

Harry gripped the stool tightly, a thousand conversations flashing through his head, all of them leading down to this one moment: stories of the good times in Gryffindor, ganging up on the mean, nasty Slytherins… James, saying he'd be happy wherever Ethan sorted… Ron, assuming Harry would be a Gryffindor… His new friends, welcoming him to Slytherin… Lily, talking about her wonderful days in Gryffindor… James, saying that Harry would be in Gryffindor since he was a Potter…

Peaking out from under the hat, he saw Draco's, Theodore's, Pansy's and Daphne's eyes trained on him. They were watching him, hoping that he'd be one of them…

Looking over at the Gryffindor table, he saw Ethan, ignoring him, looking anywhere but him, Harry could tell he wanted Harry in any house but his own…

'Put me where I'll be great.' Harry whispered in his mind and he thought he heard the hat chuckle softly before proclaiming,

"SLYTHERIN!"

There was a slight pause before the fireworks exploded. Green and silver lit the sky for a second before raining down in green, showering Harry and his new table. The Slytherins were whooping and cheering and clapping him as he hurried down, a huge smile on his face, to sit between Pansy and Draco, opposite Daphne and Tracey.

As his friends sat around him congratulating him on his sorting, Harry let all thoughts of his family run away.

He didn't think he'd ever been this happy.

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

Well, here's the chapter. Nothing particularly interesting happened here, just a restating of canon, but unfortunately it was needed to set up certain relationships and confrontations.

But, I would like to say that this story won't have any pairings for a while (if ever) and so please don't go reading more into this than there is…

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please review!

The next chapter will probably be out either next weekend, or the weekend after.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Nightmares of Reality**

**Author: Claire (.morbidity)**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Family/Tragedy**

**Pairings: None **(except canon side-pairings between parents like LE/JP) and possible LE/SS

**Warnings: Possibly eventual murder, insanity, death, torture, in this chapter specifically there's a tiny bit of accidental self-harm, lies and manipulation and general dark side weirdness, and naturally spoilers**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR. Especially the bits I've stolen from PS: the potions class _especially _Snape's speech.  
><strong>

**Summary: Extended Summary: The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.**

**Notes:** So, here's chapter four. Sorry about the delay: dilemma for myself as I discovered just how hard this story is to write without Lily there every step of the way… So I changed it. Added to that, this chapter was a killer to write for some reason.

On another note, I'm thinking of adding a pairing later that's only half-cannon: LE/SS. It would be much later on down the track (fifth/sixth year?), and it wouldn't be anything major between them – more of a fling – but first I'd like to see what the reception's like. And, as I said, it's ages away: nothing to worry about now, just some food for thought.

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 4**

_He jumped._

_He leapt._

_He flew through the trees, revelling in the reassuring pounding of the coarse ground against his bare feet. Behind him, his cloak lapped at his heels, while his hands clenched, nails drawing blood. With each step, every part of him shook in pain and joy. To be alive…_

_Without any warning, he stopped and, overcome by a sudden inspiration, pressed his bloody hand to his mouth and felt the red liquid dribble down his chin then trickle at his throat, his tongue shivering in delight at the first food in ten long years…_

_The corners of his mouth turned up, revealing teeth, rotted and sharp, clenched tight as his nails dug further into his skin._

_But now was not the time for games._

_Lifting his hands to his face once again, he blew away the blood. Without the blood, it didn't look like he had ever cut himself in the first place. Not even a scar… Because now was not the time for fun. Now he must hunt – he must be nourished._

_He needed food, like any hunter._

_He must survive._

_Silently, stationary, he waited for the flash of white; his prey._

_Then, like a snake, he struck-_

_He had never felt so alive._

_Not in ten long years…_

_-NoR-_

When Harry woke to the sound of his dorm mates fumbling into their school robes, he felt like he'd been asleep for years. His eyes adjusted easily to the dim morning light – or the little of it that managed to enter the dungeons. Blinking sluggishly, he creaked his eyes open.

His heart was racing.

Getting up, he grabbed at his glasses and pushed them on, poking his eye in the process, and stumbled across the six-person dormitory to the bathroom. Draco wasn't there, and neither were Crabbe and Goyle, but Theodore gave him a nod as he passed him. Harry assumed that Draco and his entourage had already gone down to breakfast.

"You'd better hurry – breakfast ends in half an hour." The boy said, before sliding out the door leaving Harry alone with a someone Zabini, who was just doing up his tie. Zabini offered to wait for him, but Harry didn't want to impose and declined. Zabini shrugged. Harry grabbed a towel.

With each step he took, he felt sleep drift away and the blood pump through his veins double speed.

After a quick shower, he threw on his robes. He had been up late last night agonising over a blasted letter, not to mention cajoling (bribing) one of his dorm mates (Draco) to lend him an owl to send it with, and now was running late. Grabbing his book bag – and thanking Merlin he'd had the foresight to pack it the night before – he made a mad dash to the Great Hall – again grateful the prefects had left a trail of fiery arrows in the correct path.

Sprinting up the stone floors, Harry leapt between suits of armour, flying through fake pictures and jumping between students. His heels slapped against the ground and he fe_lt so alive…_

Harry jerked.

Where had that come from? He tried desperately to remember where he had … _felt _… the words before … _thought _… the words. Frowning, he thought back to that feeling of joy and life and everything in between…

But then Harry noticed that he'd stopped right outside the Great Hall. Checking his watch, Harry only had ten more minutes for breakfast. Everyone would be there. Everyone would watch him.

He could feel their stares creeping through the door, burning holes in it, melting it away to dust. He shivered. They would watch him. They'd stare.

Why had he felt the need to wake up late?

Ethan would be there. Would he ignore Harry? Or join in the staring?

Or would he confront him?

Harry didn't dare hope Ethan had anything good to say to him.

Harry knew he must have made it worse. He'd been sorted Slytherin! He was supposedly _Harry Potter_, son of _James and Lily Potter_, brother of _Ethan bloody Potter_. He was one of the boys who survived the attack of the _Dark Lord_.

And he'd been sorted into Slytherin-

-_mistrust, deceit, lies-_

_-He lies-_

Harry didn't want to go into the Great Hall.

So he turned away.

And then, as luck would have it, the doors opened.

Harry heard it before he saw it. Gaggles of giggling teens, cackles of contrary children and chatter, chatter, chatter. They shouted, screamed, laughed and they descended on Harry's frozen form like an avalanche: overtaking him, trampling him, pinning him to the ground while he clutched himself, arms wrapped as tightly as possible around his chest and shoulders, knees braced to avoid being completely bowled over.

But at least they didn't notice him.

On and on the crowds came, pushing and shoving through the doors to the entrance hall and up marble staircases to the freedom of classes of ten to thirty people. Harry shook as he felt them lean against him, brush past him, grab blindly at him like the vultures in Diagon Alley.

Only thoughts of his new friends kept him from breaking down into tears.

Only thoughts of Ethan's would-be taunts kept him from fainting.

Eventually, the crowd of class-goers waned and Harry shook his way over to the table under the snake banner. No student was there that Harry recognised, and certainly no first years. But at the end of the table stood Professor Snape.

The Professor looked as sallow and unpleasant as ever: dark cloaked, sneering down a hooked nose and glaring at anyone within two feet of him (or in Harry's case: glaring at him whenever he was in the same room). Something was different about the man today, but Harry supposed it was just start-of-term nerves: even _Snape _had to get nervous _sometimes_. Harry had no idea how Lily had ever become friends with the ghastly man. Maybe the man had been nicer as a child? Or maybe Lily just had an odd taste in friends – which really wasn't surprising, considering her only friends (excluding James and his friends) were Snape and Mrs. Lovegood. But as the man stalked up to him, all Harry's attention was on one thought: who had learnt _the morning glare_ from whom.

'The morning glare' had been dubbed by Ethan when they were eight, or maybe nine. They'd been in the kitchen, of course, but Lily was sleeping in the adjoining lounge – which wasn't so unusual: Lily would sometimes crash on the couch when she worked too late too many days in a row. Actually, now that he came to think of it, Lily had been pregnant with Ava at the time, which made it no surprise that when he and Ethan had decided to play Hitwizards (which mainly consisted of shouting off nonsensical words at each other), thus waking their mother up, she had been less than pleased. In fact, they'd been banned from speaking for a month! But the scariest part hadn't been the prospect of not consciously making sound for a month, rather the scariest part had been the way it was conveyed _only _through her glare.

Shuffling, subdued, into the kitchen, Dad had laughed at them, telling them that Lily was just in a bad mood – she didn't _really _mean it. And Ethan had said, something along the lines of 'so she just has to get her morning glare out of the way and she'll be happy again?' And Dad had laughed at them, for some reason finding it hilarious. They'd called all Lily's glares (not matter the time of the occurrence) that from then on.

But as his godfather began to speak to him, reality washed back to him. Everything. Family. Dreams. Slytherin. Ethan. Mudblood. Slytherin. Family…

He'd tried so hard to avoid thinking about it all.

"Late, Mr. Potter? I do hope this won't become a habit of yours." Harry could tell by Snape's tone that he was delighted to see Harry in the same way Harry would like to be stuck in a room for a day with Megan Jones, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.

"No, sir. Sorry, sir." While Harry was interested in his new professor's scrutinising glower, he wasn't an idiot. Eleven years of dealing with his godfather (although he could only remember seeing the said man as many times as years) left him sure that lashing back wouldn't be a good idea – especially now that the man was allowed to give out the detentions (not that that had stopped him before – Harry could distinctly remember being forced to spend a day with him when Lily, James, Remi and Siri had gone out somewhere together, and after he and Ethan had caused some sort of harmless ruckus in his office the man had given them _detention_ until their parents had returned).

So Harry didn't say anything.

"Here is your timetable, Mr. Potter. You have charms class first: don't be late…" The man seemed to pause, weighing up his options: should he speak, should he not… The consequences could be huge either way, yet at the same time there could be nothing to speak of in the way of consequences at all… A glance at the boy's face, however, had all the anxiety and caution he'd ever felt crawling into his chest.

Harry was painfully aware of Snape's looming form over him and wanted to bolt, but he knew the professor wasn't above giving a student a detention on the first day. So Harry shoved an apple in his mouth, biting hurriedly as he realised that he only had two minutes to get to class. Curling and flexing his toes, Harry tried to avoid tapping his feet in impatience. Clenching his hands as tight as he could, he remembered a sensation of nails digging into flesh… Narrowing his eyes, he tried to capture the memory… where was it?

"Mr Potter?" Professor Snape's voice was alarmed at Harry's face, contorted with concentration, pain and rage. Harry quickly opened his hands and let go of his expression, however he was not quick enough for his godfather not to see it. An expression, unreadable to Harry's untrained eyes, flashed across the man's face. But it was gone the second it came.

"Mr. Potter, I'd like to see you in my office on Friday evening after classes. Get one of the older students to show you the way there and to your first class. And here -" Harry stared, bewildered as Professor Snape whipped out his wand, conjuring a small piece of parchment, covered in writing. "It will explain to your professor why you are late."

Harry barely kept his jaw from dropping open. Snape – his godfather, Severus Snape – was acting positively civil, he'd even helped him so his new professor wouldn't get a bad impression of him…

But Harry wasn't stupid enough to ask, so he thanked the professor and went to ask someone still at the table (all from much older years – maybe you started getting free breaks in the upper years?) where the charms classroom was.

As Professor Snape strode up to the high table, he stood firm in his decision. It was made now – no going back.

After breakfast, his first task was to write to Lily.

_-NoR-_

As Harry staggered from his first Charms class, surrounded on all sides by Draco, Pansy and Daphne, he felt about ready to collapse. They pecked and preened at him like cats licking their kitten clean. Harry appreciated their efforts. They were so understanding and helpful… it was times like these that Harry loved having friends.

The class had begun with the professor _squeaking_, of all things, when he'd come to Harry's name. Harry, taking his cue from the Slytherins (who had, in Harry's head, kept their pet name, even if they were not the only Slytherins Harry knew anymore) had just about murdered the small professor with his glare – not that Professor Flitwick had seemed to notice. He'd just carried on, blithering about wand movements and incantations…

And all through the talk, Harry had felt the creeping stares and glares of the Hufflepuffs behind him. They crept up his back and onto his shoulders, whispering, but whispering so loud Harry's ears hurt.

'_He's Harry Potter – the dark-haired one with glasses.'_

'_He's a _Slytherin_!'_

'_I've heard that he's going to be the next dark lord!'_

'_I've heard he _is _You-Know-Who'_

But the voices Harry heard most were the ones of those not even in the room – in fact two of them weren't even in Scotland.

'_How could he sort Slytherin? After everything we've done for him, after all we've raised him to be, fed him, clothed him, gave him somewhere to sleep… He turns into Snivellus!'_

'_That ignorant bezoar of a nundu! How dare he get sorted into a different house than Ethan? The only reason we sent him to Hogwarts was to look after Ethan and test our precious Ethan's food for poisons and do his homework for him! What's the point of having him at Hogwarts if he's not even doing anything _useful_…'_

'_Mum and Dad are going to be so angry when they hear how Harry called Justin the M-word… maybe now they'll take him out, or let me come home. Either way, as long as I don't have to be reminded every day that my brother is a stupid, rotting, Death Eater Slytherin!'_

Harry hadn't paid attention to a word of the lecture. The voices in his ears had been much too loud and commanding of his attention. They all hated him, he knew it, and they were right to because somehow, in some way, he _was_…

No. Weird dreams didn't make him the Dark Lord. Harry refused to continue the train of thought.

Harry really wasn't surprised that Lily, James and Ethan hated him. He hadn't spoken to Ethan since the fight before sorting, and Harry hadn't received a letter from his parents, though he was sure Ethan had. _Precious Ethan_ had asked for frequent owls, after all. And really, it made sense – Harry being the spare child no one wanted, Harry being Ethan's slave to do his homework, brush his teeth, take detentions for – after all to them, Harry was nothing but a Death Eater Slytherin…

As the Slytherins led Harry to their next class, he finally began to relax, his pulse slowing down again. He was quite proud of himself, too: he'd made it through an entire two floors and three corridors without letting the crowd break him.

And so he thanked them.

"I couldn't have done it without you." He said, putting as much feeling into it as possible.

"You're welcome, Harry." Pansy said, slinging her arm over his shoulder. Draco did the same on his other side.

"Yeah, Harry, that's what friends are for." He said with a smirk-like smile that was so typically Draco, that Harry had to grin back at him.

"Don't worry about it, Harry." Daphne said, wrapping her arm over Harry's shoulder from behind and poking her head into the gap between his head and Pansy's.

"We'll always be there to help our friends, Harry." Theodore said from beside Draco.

Harry felt overwhelmed. He'd never known having friends could be this wonderful. They were helping him so much – and all because they liked him as a person, not because of what some stupid paper said, or out of obligation like a family…

But Harry was determined to brush aside thoughts of family as he entered the transfiguration classroom.

_-NoR-_

Harry was completely fascinated by his classes. This was a novel experience for Harry; he'd never much liked books and learning. But here at Hogwarts, magic flowed through every corridor, between every crack and into the hearts of every student, teacher and pet. In every class students were taught to create art of the most spectacular kind: points were given for the shiniest needle, the brightest colour, the most complex star patterns, the most beautiful flowers. It was amazing to be immersed in the magic, using it to change, sculpt and create…

Of course, not all classes were this wonderful. In history of magic, the only forms of 'art' available to the students were daydreams, doodling and thinking up creative ways for Umbridge, the aggravating professor to die a slow, painful death. So far, the winner was Blaise Zabini by a long run, whose suggestions were not only downright creepy, but also so practical Draco was halfway convinced of doing one by the end of the first class, leaving it up to Harry to convince him that it, in fact, wasn't a good idea as they headed down to lunch. Ever since that class, Harry had been particularly careful not to offend Blaise, just in case.

He'd also taken care to keep Blaise from getting bored in history class, which was an excruciatingly difficult task. Professor Umbridge wasn't much of a teacher. On a good day she'd read the textbook to them, allowing them to do as they liked, talk as loud as they liked, as her mouth repeated the words she'd said too many times, and a glazed look covered her eyes. On very good days students could approach her and question her about their assignments, and she would give a structured, knowledgeable answer. On the bad days, however, the woman would add little phrases about a number of subjects – usually the Ministry, or 'Half-breeds'. She didn't take to either subject particularly favourably.

But it was the worst of her days that had the first year students scared. Tales from older siblings and housemates had them shaking in their boots: the bottle, the ranting, the screaming… Nobody had looked at Professor Umbridge in the same way. But Harry hadn't seen her at her worst yet, so he didn't particularly mind the class.

Defence Against the Dark Arts also didn't make Harry's list of favourite classes, although Harry wasn't sure whether it was the boring subject matter, or the headaches he got when in the classroom that cause him to hate it so much. The stuttering professor managed to turn what would have been an interesting class about vampires and zombies into an incoherent mess of syllables. Not to mention the ringing migraines Harry tended to walk away with…

By Friday, Harry was certain that Professor Quirrell's class was his absolute least favourite. And he couldn't help but think he'd heard the name 'Quirrell' before somewhere…

Friday morning began with potions class.

With the Gryffindors.

They sat in the classroom, waiting for the Professor, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike studiously ignoring each other. Harry was shifting nervously, although he tried to hide it. Ethan was just across the room and he _still _hadn't said anything. And Harry found the silence killing. He wished for Ethan to say something – anything! Both he and Ethan had always been ones to say things out of turn. They'd never before turned their backs on even insulting each other. They'd never ignored each other. But then again, Harry supposed this was just more proof that he was unwanted in their world of happiness. No letters, not even a glare from Ethan, and what had happened that night: It was proof.

But that didn't mean Ethan could just _ignore _him like that.

Harry was about to get up – say something, do something, do anything to get his attention – when the doors banged open, and in stalked the Professor.

"Brown, Lavender." The Professor began, without even glancing at the roll, rather staring at the group of Gryffindors in red, trying to discern which was Lavender. Finally, he seemed to get her and without waiting for an answer, he went on to the next name. "Bulstrode, Millicent."

The roll proceeded like this, until, naturally, Ethan's name was called.

_-Even his own godfather treated Ethan like he was special-_

"Potter, Ethan: our very own Boy Wonder."

_-What was he? He'd been there that night, too! But no one – not even his friends – spared a second glance at him as they stared and sniggered at Ethan, the precious Boy Wonder flowing with rage at being called upon-_

"And Harry Potter;" The Professor called after some time of allowing his situation to bubble and ferment, "Our _Mystery _Boy: What a collection."

Now it was Harry's turn to be stared at: Damn it, even his name came after Ethan's on the roll! But at least this time Harry wasn't the subject of _too much _sniggering. Indeed, the Gryffindors hated Snape for what he'd said to Ethan too much to laugh at anything he said, and the Slytherins turned their sympathetic looks on him, although Millicent Bulstrode, who Harry hadn't much spoken too, smirked a bit. The only noise in the classroom was Ethan's derisive snort. Snape took a turn to stare at Harry as well: dark corridors descended on him. Harry found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the deep, warping stare…

"_Balendin, I have a _very _important task for you. You will assist me in it after dinner. Meet me in my room half an hour after I leave the table."_

_He hissed into the other's ear, while the rest watched on in envy. He knew they how they all clamoured for his favour, the chance to prove themselves for him, but this _task _required a certain characteristic…_

"_My task for you, Balendin, is to look into my eyes…"_

The Professor suddenly jerked, sending Harry shakily back to the reality of the class. They still stared, but Harry found himself ignoring it in the face of the _vision_. It was the third time it had happened. The first time, in Diagon, he'd passed it off as a wandering fantasy, the second time a coincidental dream, but _this _time…

Harry was left his musings as Snape finished the roll, acting as if nothing had happened. But Harry knew it had. Had Snape seen it too? Had Snape caused it? Or had it been Harry's experience entirely? So many questions…

"You are hear to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," the Professor began. Against his will, for Harry wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with his _godfather_ right now, Harry was intrigued. An art? Harry had always thought of potions as scientific more than anything: ingredient A plus ingredient B makes potion C. Yet Lily, an art-lover to the deepest core of her bones, loved potions in ways Harry had never understood. Although she pronounced herself not particularly wonderful at the subject, being in front of a cauldron would always put a smile on her face. Harry had seen potions as rigorous, methodical, predictable… boring. Yet Lily liked art: she liked to draw, paint, and create… He hadn't seen the attraction she held for something so stiff. But then, Harry hadn't been allowed to touch cauldrons; he'd been confined to books on the subject. Harry hadn't ever thought he'd appreciate artworks and creativity the way Lily and Ethan did until he came to Hogwarts where he found in magic what he had found nowhere else… Perhaps Harry wouldn't mind potions after all – so long as Snape kept his distance.

But a thought suddenly came to Harry's mind. Ethan also liked creation. He was Lily's little star at paintings and drawings and such… She like to spend every Sunday or so with him painting or drawing something. So it wouldn't be any surprise to Harry if Ethan were good at this subject. In fact, Harry could remember a number of times he and James had gone off flying that Harry would bet Ethan had used to learn potions. Lily would have wanted her little star to be good at one of her favourite subjects – just like James had wanted Ethan to learn extra spells. Well, just like with the extra spells, Harry would show Ethan. Even without previous instruction, Harry would be better than the _precious _Boy Wonder. Harry would teach Ethan for snorting at _him_.

Then Harry realised he had missed some of the speech.

"…Understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry was, himself, bewitched by the speech. To do all that… Books only gave so much information, and while Harry had seen cauldrons from afar, he had never been allowed near enough to them to actually get a feel for them (especially as Lily only tended to brew the more difficult potions; the ones more liable to explosion, while anything James, Remus or Sirius brewed was bound to go up in messy pink gloop). The closest he could remember had been that time he'd been given detention and he'd had to prepare a few ingredients for it – but then he hadn't noticed the cauldron so much as the horror of his situation. If Harry could manage to do all that, he would surely be better than Ethan – provided Ethan himself didn't get there, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Why didn't the books mention anything this entrancing?

"Potter!" Both Potters' heads shot up. "Wonder-Boy." Snape sneered, and Harry lowered his head, seething. Why did Snape, everyone, always insist on calling on _Ethan_ first?

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Huh?" Ethan looked stumped at the question that had seemingly come out of the blue. Asphodel and wormwood… Harry thought back to the days of Lily's potions cramming… Across the room, the Granger girl's hand shot into the air, apparently desperate to prove she wasn't a dunderhead. Come on, the Granger girl knew the answer and she hadn't had the 'benefit' of Lily's tutoring… It was something about death…

"Don't know, boy? Tut, tut. Fame clearly isn't everything. What about you, Mystery Boy?"

It was Harry's turn to flinch yet again as the stares swivelled to him. The Granger girl's hand seemed to grow a foot higher, as Harry tried to think, _think_…

"Living Death, sir, a sleeping potion." Harry burst out as the Professor opened his mouth to say something equally derisive. Now Snape's mouth curled instead at the thought of Harry being right. But Harry ignored him as he turned his head to smirk at the glowering Ethan. That was for the snort at being called Mystery Boy. And Ethan deserved it: Harry hadn't felt amusement when _Ethan _had been Snape's victim.

"The _Draught_ of Living Death, Potter… both of you. And it is not just _a _sleeping potion: it is one of the most _powerful _of all. Let's try again, Wonder Boy, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Ethan relayed Harry's smirk back at him. They both knew this one and Harry hadn't been called on, so he couldn't answer it. A bezoar was a stone found in-"

"The stomach of a goat, sir."

Now, the battle was on. Neither side of the classroom was sure what to do: whether to laugh at the Potter from the other house for his misfortune, or stay strong and silent for their own Potter. Instead the houses glared at each other, daring the other to make a move. Only Granger remained out of the glaring contest as her hand waited, tense by her side, ready to shoot up at a moment's notice.

With a slight incline of his head, Snape continued his impromptu pop-quiz.

"Mystery Boy," Snape turned his sneer on him, but Harry felt ready for whatever Snape threw at him. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Now, that was unfair, to throw in a wolfsbane question. Harry knew full well that wolfsbane, while a useful substance, was mainly used in higher quality potions – a top example being the _wolfsbane _potion, which took the highest calibre of mastery to brew – and was definitely not in the first-year curriculum…

"I don't know, sir." Harry ground out, defeated. On the other side of the room, Granger was almost standing up, she was so eager to answer the question. If Harry didn't know the answer to that question, then Ethan wouldn't, so he had to wonder why Snape didn't just ask the girl and be done with it.

"Well, Wonder Boy? What is the difference?"

Now Ethan was being put on the spot again, but Harry couldn't feel the same excitement he'd felt two minutes ago. His godfather was being stupid, immature, horrible…

"I don't know either." Ethan managed to forget to add the 'sir'. "But I think Hermione does. Why don't you ask her?"

There was a tinkling laugh throughout the group of Gryffindors, however Snape, predictably, wasn't pleased at all. With a glare, they were silenced.

"For your information, Potters, monkshood and wolfsbane are the _same_, and are also called aconite." There was a pause as Granger sat down and Harry remembered the passage on aconite in Magical Herbs and Fungi…

"Well, why aren't you writing this down?... And a point from Gryffindor. For your cheek, Potter."

And then, Harry realised that even though Snape hated Ethan and he just the same, he was in Snape's favour, just for being a Slytherin.

Harry threw himself into the lesson. Although the 'simple' cure for boils was new and therefore difficult, it wasn't particularly frustrating. The worst part about it, Harry found, was the inane end result. Sure, a boil cure is nice, but it was so… mundane. Harry wanted the fame (though he had more than enough), the glory (though that word always made him think of 'gory' and Harry didn't particularly want blood) and the stopper on death (although his brother was apparently a living example). It sounded so amazing to be able to do all that with a little brew… As Harry stared at his swirling fumes that had developed after adding the crushed snake fangs. They were silvery and seemed to sparkle, making patterns in the shadows of the dungeon lights… Harry shook his head as Snape stalked over to him, telling him to stop daydreaming, which was the only thing he could criticize him for, because Harry was working with Draco who, according to the professor, could do no wrong in the potions classroom.

By the end of the lesson Finnegan's cauldron had been melted, Longbottom was in the hospital wing, the Slytherins had made a pact to never _ever _let Crabbe and Goyle work together during potions, and Gryffindor was down another point.

All in all, it was a good lesson.

For the rest of the day, Harry walked about in anxiety. His friends noticed, but didn't push it. Instead, when things started to get to him, one of them would come over and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling reassuringly. And it was reassuring: to know that they were there for you, they cared about how you felt, they wanted you happy… It was more than enough to cheer Harry up one last time before he went to see Snape.

"Don't worry Harry. I'm sure you'll be fine." Draco said to him. Harry wasn't sure how Draco knew anything about where he was going, but Draco always seemed to know things that by all rights he shouldn't. Like how he'd known that Harry's favourite colour was actually red, while Ethan's was blue, and how he'd known that Harry had been given a potions set for his birthday, as well as a broom from his godparents… But Harry figured that Draco was either a really creepy stalker, or just had a knack for finding out insignificant details like that.

Harry nodded in thanks, while absently heading to the dungeons.

"Mr. Potter, you are late."

Harry entered the office. It was much like he'd expected. Spartan. The bare essentials. A desk. A chair. Potions ingredients. An occupied chair-

"What?" Harry's eyes bulged out. He couldn't believe it.

_What was Lily doing here?_

"Hello, Harry. I know this is unusual, but it couldn't wait."

_-NoR-_

Lily sat, blankly, in her first friend's office. She had to remember not to think about Harry as her son now. For he was her… patient of sorts, she supposed was the word. Any other word _(specimen, subject, experiment) _sounded too much like the animals of her experiments, currently nothing but ash. If she thought of Harry as the Harry she knew from the weekends, she just might cry. If she thought of him as her Harry of the night-time the entire school would hear her howling.

Instead, she felt her Unspeakable personality creeping over.

"Mu- Li- Mother? What're you…" Lily watched her patient struggle with words, just as she had done a few moments before.

"Harry, there's something about you. I don't know if you know it yet, but I think I know it now. If you know… you've known for awhile, haven't you…"

Harry was frozen stiff in the middle of the office. He looked like a dear caught in headlights, but underneath she could see a glint of something dangerous, like a snake ready to lash out the moment it was poked too hard.

"Yes, you knew…"

Harry could tell what this was about. He knew it. Lily had figured out his secret…

"You knew too!" Before her, Harry screamed and she took a step back as the snake struck. "You knew, you always knew! You just didn't have any proof before now! So what? Now that I'm in Slytherin, it's proof that it's true! Now that I called Finch-Fletchley a Mudblood, it _must _be true! Don't try to tell me you didn't know… Didn't suspect… With all the dreams… Ethan didn't have dreams… You knew what I had to deal with! Don't lie to me… Not that you won't anyway…"

It was true. True, true, true… Lily hadn't known, but she'd thought. She'd guessed. She'd believed.

But she hadn't wanted to.

After getting the letter, the letter telling her about _Slytherin_, she'd disposed of the short parchment, before James could see. It had hurt both the contents and the destruction, but it was the proof she'd been waiting for, watching for… needing. Slytherin… It was _his _house. With the proof, she'd done the tests. Tests she should have done years ago, but hadn't had the courage, guts, will to do. She hadn't been surprised.

That night, the night of September first, she'd crashed at Sev's place. She'd told him everything, or a lot of it. Her suspicions, the dreams, the tests… They'd ended up drunk on his couches, and fallen asleep that way. There had been no way she could face James after learning, understanding, knowing about Harry…

Sev put a hand on her shoulder, as if he could sense her troubled thoughts, even though her mind was impenetrable, and her emotions even more guarded. Sev had always been able to do that.

"And you know too!" Harry gasped in shock as his _godfather _supported Lily. Turning his eyes in hurt, betrayal, to Lily he ground out, "You told him! You told him about my- how I am- how I have…you told him everything!"

"Lily," Professor Snape spoke up, though Harry was in too much shock to notice. "There was an incident in potions today. While using legilimency on him, we came to a memory of him employing the art, as a school child, on another Slytherin child by the name of _Balendin_, though I know there is no child here now by that name… The only wizard I know by that name would be Balendin Lestrange, who went to school her many years ago…"

Lily processed the information. There it was. Proof in the most final sense. If Harry had memories in his head that weren't his own…

"Harry, you understand that I will have to run some tests over you. You have access to knowledge about much of the Dark Lord: his ways, his knowledge, his followers and more. Severus was able to get some information in the form of legilimency, but maybe a pensieve would work better… we will have to see. If we can access some of that information, we may be able to hunt down his followers and maybe settle once and for all whether he is dead or merely in hiding…"

So this was it. Lily knew. Professor Snape knew. Hell, even Ron bloody Weasley had guessed. He'd thought he'd hidden it so well, that nobody would guess that his dreams were _Voldemort's_, that his memories weren't only his… Soon James would know. Ethan would know. They'd probably tell the newspapers and then Harry wouldn't be liked anymore his friends would hate him –_or would they like him more, given their own dark roots- _the school would ostracize him… Siri and Remi would hater him… He'd be an outcast in society.

Much like Lily.

"Don't worry, dear. We won't tell anyone." Lily got up off her seat and, shrugging Severus' hand off her shoulder, walked over to her son. Pulling him into her arms, he cried and cried. But that didn't matter. She was just glad he didn't think to ask her how she knew what he was thinking. Seeing Severus open a door in the back of his office, she led her Harry into Sev's spare room, and together they sat on the bed, just a son and his mother. As Harry cried, Lily hummed their lullaby, rocking them off to sleep…

_-NoR-_

"Hey Lils, how was work? You stayed pretty late." Lily stumbled into the kitchen with baggy eyes, into her husband's arms. He was smiling, so delighted to see her that she had to smile too.

"I fell asleep in the middle of an experiment. Sorry about that." She yawned, and was pleased when James handed her a coffee. He knew her so well.

"Hey, don't worry… You've been looking really tired lately. You probably needed the extra sleep." He was so trustingly, wonderfully, perfect… Lily knew she exploited it, but that didn't matter right now.

"Where's Ava?" She wondered aloud, trying not to think about the night before, Harry's screaming…

"Still asleep, the little darling. She takes after her mother!" James teased.

"Hmm…" Lily agreed, staring in vain at the window. Harry wouldn't have had time to write a letter since the night before, but maybe Ethan would write something. James, seeing what she was looking at, handed her an opened envelope.

"It came last night." He said, and then turned to tend to the pot on the stove. For all that James was bad at potions, it never ceased to amaze Lily that his cooking was superb.

"Did you know that Harry's in Slytherin?"

Lily felt her coffee turn cold. James' words were deceptively light, for underneath she could hear the frigidity of the question. Of course, since she hadn't been there to censor Ethan's letter he would have read Ethan's annoyance that they hadn't yet responded to his concerns of Harry being in Slytherin, saying the word _Mudblood_… She would have to tread carefully: she was on thin ice.

"Yes, I did." She said shortly. There was no point in hanging about. James knew she knew, now that he'd read Ethan's true letter…

_And so I eat my words… Trusting husband to suspicious…_

"And I suppose it's by some great fault on my part that my eyes have seemingly skipped over the parts of Ethan's letters that said such things?" He continued, his back still to her. Lily knew what this was. James was suspicious now, and now that he was suspicious there was no end to it. James had always known she was good at acting, but now that he knew she'd lied to him…

He'd never trust her again.

So really, it was her only choice. Lifting her wand, she began her work.

_-NoR-_

"Huh? Lily? What was I just saying?" James turned around to face his beautiful wife. Seeing her smiling face he felt all bad things in the world slide away from his mind.

"Drifted off, James? Should I be offended?" She asked mischievously. Ignoring his pout, she continued seriously. "You were just saying how we really should talk to Ethan about Harry being in Slytherin and I agree. It's about time we talked to him about it… I don't know why we've left it this long. Other than that, we should probably write to Harry… have I mentioned to you how proud I am for not getting upset about this? You've grown up a lot from the boy I once knew, teasing another boy about being in another house… Who knows, maybe next we'll see you and Sev getting along..."

"No way!" James shouted, but he was laughing as well. "There's no way I'll ever get along with Sn- Snape. Too many years of grudges rest on that… But yeah, after breakfast let's wake Ava and write some letters to the boys… We should probably also say something to Harry, though. I know he was just trying to keep his friends, but he really shouldn't have called someone… _that_… Maybe you could have Snape talk to him? Snape certainly knows enough about the consequences of _that _word."

Lily smiled. As much as both Severus and James tried to hide it, they really didn't hate each other as much as they used to.

"I think that would be a brilliant idea." She smiled, though upstairs she could hear the pounding little footsteps that meant Ava was awake and would soon be demanding breakfast. They could deal with letters and children and Mudbloods and houses later.

Right now, James was happy and smiling at her. He trusted her.

And that was all that mattered.

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

So, there's chapter four. I'm really not sure I like this chapter, but I'd love to hear what you think, so please review!

The next chapter will take at least another two weeks, but after that I _think_ I'll be able to get a chapter a week out. We'll see.


	5. Chapter 5

15:03

**Title: Nightmares of Reality**

**Author: Claire (.morbidity)**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Family/Tragedy**

**Pairings: None **(except canon side-pairings between parents like LE/JP) and possible LE/SS

**Warnings: **Possibly eventual murder, insanity, death, torture, in this chapter specifically there's more mention of unforgivables and torture, the rude word for a female dog is written (oh my), people are called Mudbloods (just in case extreme HP fans are offended by the word), extreme sibling rivalry, scary children, and naturally spoilers

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to JKR. Especially the parts from flying class.

**Extended Summary: **The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.

**Notes: **So here's chapter. This one was quite hard to write, and it's shorter than I'd like it to be, but it's all I could manage. Sorry, but updates are probably going to be scarce for the next three or so weeks, but here's to hoping.

Thanks for all the reviews: They're really appreciated!

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 5**

"Harry, have you heard?" Harry was woken by the shockingly exuberant face of Draco Malfoy – the same Draco Malfoy who snubbed anything more lively than an easy grin. Yet here the blonde was, almost bouncing on Harry's bed, eyes alight, with Theodore standing behind him, so stunned by the change Draco had undergone he was left floundering in the doorway.

Not bothering to wait for the still-drowsy Harry's answer, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Flying!"

Blinking sluggishly, Harry tried to surface from the monotony that was sleep deprivation, and failed miserably. Why Professor Sinistra had to set so much homework for a subject like _astronomy_…

"Wha?" Harry couldn't manage the 't'.

Draco didn't seem to mind.

"We're starting flying lessons today! It's going to be with the Gryffindors and we're _finally _going to be allowed to fly! It's going to be _amazing_…"

Draco was now breaking the springs in Harry's bed, trying to touch the ceiling with each jump. Theodore had managed to get over his shock, and had made his way over to his trunk, sorting through his clothes trying to distinguish the clean robes from the ones he'd worn the day before.

Dimly, Draco's sentence registered in Harry's mind.

"But Draco… haven't you flown before? Why are you getting so worked up about _flying_?"

Draco paused mid-bounce, clutching the bedpost awkwardly with one hand.

"Well, yeah, of course I've flown before… I fly _all _the time… It's just, now we get to fly at school…" Draco screwed up his eyes, thinking for a second, but once he found a solution, rays of sunlight burst through yet again. "And besides, it's with the _Gryffindors_. Won't it be fun to taunt all the little Mudbloods who haven't flown before?"

Harry froze a little at the word Mudblood, but didn't let it affect his face as Draco's haunting stare beamed down at him. Trying to push the word away from him, he studied the rest of Draco's words.

He smirked as he realised… "And _Ethan_ will be there…"

Draco matched his smirk, flopping down to sit cross-legged in front of Harry, who propped himself up with pillows against the headboard. The two, along with Pansy and Daphne, had spent the past two weeks thinking up ways to taunt Ethan, with Blaise occasionally joining in with his customary morbidity. However they hadn't managed to actually do anything, as the last time they had been in the same area as Ethan (excluding the Great Hall, which was always full of teachers) had been in the Potions class, under Professor Snape's watchful glare. They hadn't dared attempt anything then.

But now, up in the air… Would it really be such a surprise if Ethan lost control of his broom and began flying straight for the ground…

Harry shivered at the thought.

A pause hung on the air, only to be broken by…

"Flying!" And Draco was off again, bouncing about the room faster than a bludger, waking Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle in turn. Shaking his head at his best friend's uncharacteristic antics, Harry went to get ready. Once dressed, he looked over to Theodore, now waiting for everyone by the door as they scrambled to get up. Draco was calming down, however Harry didn't want to mention flying to him again, lest he start breaking even _more _springs in his mattress.

"So when are the lessons?" Harry glanced sideways at Theodore as he watched Blaise attempt to find his wand, fascinated. "I assume you've seen the noticeboard: you followed Draco in."

Theodore nodded, eyes still fixed on the frantic Blaise, lifting every pillow, throwing off every sheet and blanket, double-checking the underside of every bed…

"Yes…" He said, a smile twitching at his lips as Blaise began to hound Goyle for his 'stolen wand'. "Yes, and the lessons are in the afternoon – after classes…" He paused for a second. "That's not all the noticeboard said: our teacher for the new subject has finally come – classes start on Monday." Then Theodore shut up, not exactly ignoring Harry, but remaining in a companionable silence: Theodore did that a lot.

"The new course?" Harry mumbled, almost to himself as it didn't seem like Theodore was listening, "Wonder who the teacher would be…"

The new subject had been introduced just this year, and it was all due to Siri and Remi that it was being taught. It was originally supposed to be a course on Magical Beings, so that students could be educated in ethics and the fact that goblins, centaurs, vampires and so on really weren't so different… But they couldn't decide on a name without it sounding discriminatory – segregating 'Magical Beings' from 'normal wizards', and then they'd decided to include Muggles and Muggleborns in the whole 'indoctrinate the young witches and wizards of today so that they aren't bigots like their parents' so they'd decided to make it a course about Wizarding society in general. Then it had expanded to customs, geography, government, politics and a whole other range of ideas when a Muggleborn had compared it to one of their classes at their old Muggle primary school: HSIE – Human Society and It's Environment. According to Remi, who had spent the better part of the past year with his head in a fireplace at the Hogwarts' Board of Governors' meetings, the better part of first year was spent getting the _Mudbloods _up to date, so it sounded like the course would be a breeze – as long as the teacher was good. Because really, it was the teacher who made the subject, from what Harry had seen.

However, glancing at the clock hung in their room, Harry realised that they were running late, thanks going to Draco for acting like an idiot (although he had woken them up, no matter how undignified the manner in which he had done so was) and Blaise for his missing wand saga.

"Guys, we'd better hurry – I don't want to be the one to send Umbridge into a Bad'un by being late. Blaise, your wand is here beside the door, where you always leave it. Let's go." Theodore wouldn't be too pleased that Harry had ruined the surprise, but he'd live. Blaise always left his wand on the table at the door to their dormitory so he wouldn't forget it, but he always forgot that he'd put it there, so it wasn't like Theodore wouldn't see the Performance again.

Harry swept from the room, only slightly mimicking their head of house as he did so, leaving Draco and the others to sedately follow on behind him.

_-NoR-_

Making their way onto the lawns to pick out the best brooms before the Gryffindors could get there, Harry listened to Draco, Daphne, Tracey and Theodore argue over who the better flier was, occasionally interjecting with the pronouncement that he was better than all of them. Each 'reason' they gave for being the better flier became more and more ridiculous, so much so that by the time Pansy had gotten over her giggles enough to stop them, Harry was half-way to convincing them that he'd once performed a wronski feint against the star seeker for the Magpies.

As the Gryffindors drizzled in, however, Harry forgot the argument completely, his eyes focusing on Ethan. The breeze seemed to pick up, chilling the bright day. Ethan only gave Harry a scathing look, however, before purposefully standing between Granger and another Muggleborn Harry whose name, Harry was fairly certain, was Thomas. Harry was torn between saying something to Ethan and teasing Longbottom who was now standing in front of Harry himself, snivelling as usual, whimpering over the thought of flying, but he was spared from making the decision by the arrival of the flying instructor.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." She barked at the few Gryffindors still fighting over the school brooms. Then again, these monsters were worth killing over, if only to get a slightly better deal.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'" The instructor called, and everybody did so.

Harry was surprised to see how few brooms actually jumped into their callers' hands. Then again, many people may be feeling nervous at the thought of flying in front of their peers. And then the poor brooms had probably been used so many times, for so many years… It was quite understandable that they were weary of yet another ride manned by incompetent… _Mudblood_ first years. Of course, Harry's broom flew straight into his hand.

Ethan's did too.

As each broom finally got moving, and a few people fudged their way through by picking them up when they thought no one was looking, Madam Hooch began making her way between the lines, correcting handgrips, technique and so on. Harry shot Draco a sympathetic look as the instructor called him up on having the wrong hold of the broom, but shared a laugh with him as Longbottom freaked out in front of them. Helping the boy along in scaring himself silly, Harry and Draco forced vacant grins onto their faces and began staring at Longbottom, acting insane. The boy started to shake.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

Harry and Draco leaned in towards Neville, who couldn't look away. Madam Hooch didn't seem to notice as they warped their faces from made smiles to snarls promising bad things.

And then Longbottom pushed off.

Rising high and fast, he was soon soaring above the tops of Hogwarts castle. Unable to follow the flying teacher's desperate pleas for him to land, the white-faced boy clutched his broom.

Harry took in a quick gasp as his old playmate fell to the ground with a thud, his broomstick floating away.

Harry felt sick. Was Neville hurt? Would he be OK? Had his and Draco's goadingcaused this? Was this _his _fault?

"Broken arm, fractured leg, unknown damage to internal organs..."

Madam Hooch muttered and Harry almost choked. Neville had broken an arm, a leg… possibly more… because _he'd _tormented him? He had never been particularly fond of Neville, but at least he'd been there…

And then Neville was hobbling away with Madam Hooch, leaving the first years alone.

Draco's laughter began to ring through his ears.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Harry could hear the rest of his friends join in with the laughter, but he couldn't find it in himself to do it. He just felt sick. It was all he could do to keep his face from going green.

"That's rich coming from you – you and your henchman there were the ones who freaked him out enough to take off like that!"

Ethan Potter was standing in the middle of a crowd of Gryffindors, glaring at the Slytherins. Although the answer was given to Draco, even the Slytherins were staring at Harry's frozen form.

Ethan's insult had been directed at him.

Glancing between Draco, nodding him maliciously on, and Ethan, snarling furiously at him, Harry let forth a short bark of laughter.

"The squib had it coming." Harry tried to think of something to say, anything, to get the conversation away from Neville Longbottom.

The Remembrall, the glass ball Neville had been gifted at breakfast, glittered in the sun.

"Hey look, Draco, it's Longbottom's present from _granny_!" Harry called out, grabbing it from where the Gryffindor had dropped it. Turning to his friends, who now looked as delighted as his stomach felt twisted, he called to them, "Who wants to play catch?"

Hearing a chorus of 'me's and 'I do's, Harry grabbed his broom and was ready to shoot up into the air when Ethan spoke up.

"Give that to me, _brother_."

The Gryffindors moved as a contingent behind him, backing him up against Harry.

But Harry disregarded them as he focused his attention on Draco.

"So, how about that game of catch?"

Grinning at each other, the two boys, followed by Daphne, shot into the air, passing the fragile ball between them. Down below, they could hear Granger shouting something about getting in trouble…

That was his only warning before a great force hit him from below, and the lights went dim…

_-NoR-_

_He dreamt of gold._

_A golden stone, glittering ruby blood._

_It was such a _pretty _trinket._

_He wanted it._

_He needed it._

_He wanted… All he wanted was to open the door. It was a simple charm…_

Alohamora

_He would enter the room… Hagrid's room._

_The third floor corridor on the right-hand side._

_All he wanted was to just go in, get closer to it…_

_But he couldn't. He didn't know what lurked behind those doors, and he couldn't until he could provide a sufficient distraction, something to keep them entertained…_

_And then the pretty rock would be his._

_It was all he wanted._

_All he wanted._

_-NoR-_

Harry woke up to his mother's deathly face. So gaunt and white Harry wondered for a second if he was looking at some zombie version of the woman that was once his mother, before sense overtook him.

"Harry!" Was the first word from her lips, her green eyes widening as she saw her son – finally – awaken.

"Harry, we were so worried…" As Harry regained his senses, his father's face swam into view, tired brown eyes behind glasses slowly sidling down to the tip of his nose.

"Wah- what happened?" Harry mumbled, his mouth unable to form the words completely.

"There was an accident during your flying lesson." Said Lily, caring eyes glancing over him, while James threw him a speculative look, trying to decide whether or not to reprimand him at this stage.

"You scared us, Harry. If Professor McGonagall hadn't been on her way down to look after you lot, who knows what would have happened…"

Harry tried to convey a puzzled look, and he must have managed it because James elaborated.

"You were flying, Harry, which you shouldn't have been doing, by the way, and Ethan accidentally rammed into you. He's very sorry – he lost control of the broom, and because of it you had a concussion… I'm going to be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about those brooms… It's about time they were replaced."

Harry tried to sit up and glance around the sterilised white Hospital Wing, however as he did so he felt blood rushing to his head and he had to lie back down. Lily cooed at him, patting his shoulder, while James tussled his hair.

"Don't worry, Harry," he said, "You'll be fine. And since you've got a free afternoon today, Sni-" He paused when Lily hit him. "Sorry, _your godfather_, has agreed to bring you up to date on the potions lesson you're missing right now."

Harry thought for a moment. He was sure he was supposed to be doing something during that time… Sharp nails in his shoulder caused him to glance upward. Above him, Lily's forbidding expression made him realise that his father was not to know about his meetings with his mother on Fridays.

Then again, she'd said she wouldn't tell James about… _it_.

"Where's Ava?" Harry asked when he realised his sister wasn't attached to either of his parents as she usually was. Maybe she was with Siri and Remi…

"We didn't have time to call Pads and Moony, but the Gryffindors were happy enough to look after her." Harry flinched at the sound of the house. Another reminder of the fact that he was _different_, he wasn't _like _his family, he was _abnormal_…

"By the way, Harry. I've been meaning to talk to you about that." James said, catching Lily's eye. Now did seem like a good time to say what he wanted to say.

"Harry, first off, I'd like to say that I seriously disapprove of the term 'Mudblood'." Seeing Harry open his mouth to say something, deny something, James raised a hand. "I'm not done, Harry."

Taking a breath, he continued.

"I disapprove of it, particularly because your mother classifies under the term 'Mudblood'. But one word isn't the end of the world. Harry, I get that you probably want to fit in with your friends, act all cool… But trust me, by hurting people, you're just driving them further away."

As Harry opened his mouth to protest, James stopped him again.

"Look, Harry. I don't want you to justify yourself for me right now. Merlin knows I did some stupid things when I was eleven, not to mention when I got older… I just don't want you to make the same mistakes I did, kid…"

Harry was driven to silence as his father became lost in thought. At that moment, all he wanted was to pick his father's brain apart; dissect it until he knew exactly what the other was thinking. What mistake had he made? What did he regret so much…

"Dad?" Harry asked, guardedly.

"Yeah?" His Dad responded, hurtling back to Earth.

Harry paused for a second.

"Thanks for the letter you sent me last Saturday… I was starting to wonder if you hated me for… You know…" Harry made a weird hand gesture towards where his school crest would usually be on his robes.

His Dad gave a funny smirk.

"Welcome, son. And I could never hate you."

_-NoR-_

"Gryffindor's down fifty points, thanks to this!" Daphne declared as she helped Harry into the common room. "Of course, Slytherin's down thirty because the three of us were on brooms as well, but no one really cares, as long as Gryffindor's down and we're still in the lead…"

Harry glanced around the common room, and was greeted with a few waves and a scatter of nods; a big change from the start of the year. Mostly, they had ignored him, however a few select upper years had made their dislike of him very clear. He could still feel the shivers running down his spine from the scowl Bole had sent him on his first night as he had rushed up into his dorm.

Harry knew that if it weren't for his friends, the upper years wouldn't be so accommodating.

Speaking of friends…

"Harry!" A blur of motion hit Harry at full speed, almost knocking him to the ground. "You're alright! We were so scared!" Pansy's voice had gone all high-pitched and squeaky, making Harry want to laugh at it and cry from her sincerity at the same time.

"It hasn't been the same without you here, Harry." Draco smiled warmly at him, kindly detaching Pansy, leading him over to the table the first years habitually haunted; the table inevitably furthest from the fire. Nodding to Theodore, Blaise, Tracey and Millicent (because Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't notice if you started chicken dancing dressed as a House Elf in front of them), Harry settled himself into his customary spot.

As always, Draco began the discussion.

"So, Harry, did you see Longbottom in the Hospital Wing?"

As always, Draco could be trusted to pick the most uncomfortable topic possible.

Harry had seen Neville, battered and broken, but hadn't said anything. The boy still hadn't woken, anyway: he wouldn't have heard anything if he had said it. _And what would he have said?_

"Yeah, he was there… By the way, why aren't we in trouble for the whole Remembrall thing?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. His parents hadn't said anything about it, and nor had Snape when Harry had visited his office that afternoon.

At this, Daphne almost giggled. "What are you talking about, Harry? We were just looking after our dear friend's treasured possession!"

Harry joined in with the snickers of the Slytherins. "But surely McGonagall…"

"Has bad eyesight!" Draco cut in and each first year pretended that the giggles erupting from their mouths was just practice for a time 'snicker's were not appropriate.

As the conversation died, Pansy took it upon herself to take up its reigns again.

"I was so mad at P- Ethan when he knocked you off. I just wanted to… ugh! Tonight, at dinner, we've got to do something."

Suddenly, the words became real.

For the past fortnight they'd hinted at the words, joking at the idea, but nobody had ever gone and outright said it. As Pansy said them, the words became true.

_They were going to do something about Ethan._

Tonight.

_-NoR-_

"Hey, _Ethan_. Surprised Mum and Dad haven't taken you out already – or are they just waiting so the professors can expel you properly?" Harry stood over Ethan, who was seated at the Gryffindor table. Next to him was Draco, arms crossed and sneering. They'd talked long into the night, trying to plan out exactly what would happen, and along the way had decided that Harry would need backup – just in case things got physical, as Gryffindors apparently preferred them to.

"What are you doing here?" His brother glared daggers up at him, but Harry just smiled.

_You've done _wrong_, twin of mine. Mum and Dad aren't pleased with _you_. They love me, Ethan. And that's not going to change. No matter how hard you try to steal them away from me…_

"Just came to say goodbye." Oh, how he wished he could be saying goodbye. Ethan had given him a concussion – he could have killed him!

But suddenly all their planning went out the window. Harry had prepared himself for any emotional turmoil within possibility. But what happened next, in his mind, wasn't possibly. So Harry hadn't prepared himself for Ethan's contrite look. Because for Ethan to suddenly have a change of heart wasn't only impossible, it was _wrong, wrong, wrong…_

"Harry… We haven't really talked since we left… We haven't had the chance, but I'd like to say…" Ethan calmed himself and looked up at his brother. He tried to think of everything he had to say – all he wanted to say – because he wouldn't have much time. The past two weeks had been mad – crazy! He and Harry had always been best friends but suddenly they went to Hogwarts and they were worst enemies… His mother had told him that Hogwarts was where such friendships and … enemyships … were made. He'd just never imagined that Hogwarts would make a rival out of _Harry_.

"I'm sorry Harry… I can't believe I actually tried to knock you off – I could have ki- hurt you _really bad_! Mum and Dad told me how I shouldn't get so worked up over a house, and I forgive you… I've been a horrible brother lately… Could you forgive me?" Ethan stared up at Harry in desperation. All he wanted was some forgiveness, to have Harry on his side, as it had always been…

_No! It was lies – all lies!_

_The boy was lying, it must be true. He couldn't tell truth. The boy was a liar._

_He lied._

_All he did was lie, lie, lie!_

Something ugly twisted in the pit of Harry's stomach, raging beneath the surface. It told him to attack, attack! Then coil away, retreat. Don't let him near you; don't let him hurt you with his _lies! All lies!_

Every word Ethan spoke was a vicious lie, because he wanted to hurt Harry even more, but his first step was getting back on Harry's good side so their parents would forgive him.

In the end, Harry was sure, it was all Ethan's fault.

Everything.

"No." Harry was staring coldly at Ethan. Everyone else melted away, leaving only the two brothers, glaring at each other. "I'll never forgive you!" _For all that you've done. For trying to kill me. For stealing my parents. For laughing at me in potions class. For insulting my friends. For ignoring me on the train ride. For thinking I needed help when we were waiting to be sorted. For not even glancing at me when I was sorted Slytherin. For thinking I had done something that would need forgiving._

"And don't forgive me – there's nothing I've done that needs _your _forgiveness." Harry snarled. Ethan's face looked hurt, and it crumbled to dust, but Harry was stronger. Draco put his arm around Harry's shoulder, and Harry felt all he needed to go on. Suddenly it didn't matter that they were in a room full of people he didn't know. He had his friend, and more friends back at the Slytherin table, watching to make sure everything went as planned, and that was all he needed.

He didn't need Ethan.

"I'm better than you." Harry said decisively.

"No slimy Slytherin's better than my friend!" The boy next to Ethan demanded – the Mu- Muggleborn named Thomas. The words struck Harry, but thankfully Draco was ready with an answer.

"Care to bet on that? Harry'll take him on anytime! Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter, Thomas? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course I know what a duel is!" Thomas said, although he didn't look to sure. "I'm his second – who's Potter's? You, I take it?"

Draco snarled back at Thomas.

"You bet. Midnight, alright? We'll meet you on the landing outside the third floor corridor – no one will look for us in the banned area." And with that, Harry was dragged away from the Gryffindor table, and out of the Entrance Hall. Draco signalled over the Slytherins, and off they trotted to the third floor, to leave a few gifts for their would-be opponents.

_-NoR-_

"So, Ava, what should we do now?" James barely glanced at the three-year-old, intently studying the Daily Prophet before him. She wouldn't answer, still drowsy from the 'care' of the current residents of Gryffindor tower. But she'd smiled a bit, so he assumed she'd had fun. It was sometimes hard to tell with Ava: whether she was enjoying herself or enjoying the fool you were making of yourself. But it didn't really matter to him; he firmly believed that as long as his daughter was at least somewhat entertained, he had succeeded as a parent.

His attempts at just about every other aspect of parenting had failed, in his humble opinion.

Every now and then, while Lily was still at work and the kids were asleep, Moony and Padfoot would come around. They'd talk about their days in turn, each lamenting over firewhiskey the horror of the _responsibility _they were faced with. Padfoot and Moony, working while he, James, _Prongs_, was in charge of the mental stability and physical well being of _children_.

They'd never thought the future would be so… steadily _satisfying_.

The irony of two of the Marauders working in _law _was lost on nobody, although James could see how it could have been guessed had a person had the audacity: after all, what they attempted to do everyday was bend, mould and _change _the rules, and altogether 'get out of detention'. As for James… he'd never seen himself as a workingman, but then again he'd never seen himself as _not _working. Yet here he was, thirty-one with three kids… In fact he'd been twenty-eight with three kids and at twenty-one he'd had two, looking after all of them while his wife worked. Lily sometimes commented on role reversals, but she'd never explained it. James assumed it was a Muggle concept.

With Moony and Padfoot around, he'd regale them with the misery that was his skill as a parent. He'd tell them about his attempts to teach his children the alphabet, which all had ended in failure so spectacular James had almost found himself a corner in which to weep. Of course, a week later Harry and Ethan had both managed to somehow learn the stupid thing enough to sing the song… on repeat, all of Sunday. They'd even managed while eating, no matter how many times he told them not to eat, sing or _hum _with a full mouth. Padfoot, Moony and Lily all had sworn they had had nothing to do with the boys' sudden comprehension of the alphabet, but James had his suspicions.

James could remember so many days of trying, needing to be a good parent, a good husband, a good friend, a good everything… The other day, during Ava's naptime, he had realised that he now spent more time alone in a room than with someone. He'd even worked it out mathematically, using long-forgotten arithmancy skills. While James had never much been one for reading or studying, he had always enjoyed his arithmancy classes. He'd been quite the natural at it – as he was with transfiguration and flying. He'd always been quite good at other subjects too, never having to study, just breezing through getting good marks in everything he did. It used to aggravate people (Moony) to no end that he could coast through without actually having to put effort into achieving, but he hadn't thought much on it: then it had been the monotony of school.

At that moment, however, he was faced with the monotony of naptime, using arithmetic to alleviate his boredom.

Riffling through the articles, James' eyes spotted a piece about the new teacher at Hogwarts of 'Magical Society and It's Environment' (MSIE) – Nicholas Flammel. The man was apparently coming out of obscurity to teach, however had been watched, followed and even attacked two weeks ago, so he'd delayed his arrival at Hogwarts to shake his assailants off. But now he was making his triumphant return to teach Harry and Ethan… James wasn't quite sure what the subject was about, but from the campaigns of his best friends he had gathered it would basically be 'a little of this, and a little of that'.

As he moved on to the next article, however, he heard a yelp.

"Ava!" James' head shot up. What had he done wrong now? How had his inattention caused her pain this time? What had he caused?

James' eyes alighted on his daughter as she started to cry.

"What's wrong, darling? What's wrong? Don't cry… Come here and give Daddy a hug… What's wrong Ava?" James hurried over to his daughter, throwing his arms around her and rocking her back and forth. He couldn't see anything that could have hurt her but he wouldn't be surprised if she'd made it disappear through accidental magic… or maybe she'd accidentally made a toy disappear? James tried to console Ava, but she just kept crying louder, and louder, and louder… Suddenly she was wailing.

"What's wrong, Ava – just tell me and I'll fix it. I'll make it all better."

Ava had never done this before. As a baby she'd never cried much, in fact they'd often had no idea when she was uncomfortable or hungry because she simply didn't cry. Now, however she cried a lot more, however she had always used words. For her to be screaming so much she was unable to speak… Something bad must have happened. Something terrible.

But suddenly, just as suddenly as she'd started, Ava stopped.

The house was deathly still.

"Ava?" James whispered, voice hoarse.

Dry-faced, Ava gave a slight giggle, flashed him a smirk, and crawled out of his lap, tottering over to her bowl of afternoon tea.

_-NoR-_

The Unspeakable strode down the hallway, absently nodding to her colleagues as she passed them, barely noting their various identities.

"Miss! Miss!" The Unspeakable halted as the young assistant jogged up to her. He was at least a foot taller than her, although he was hardly an imposing figure: his fair hair, hazel eyes and baby face gave him an aura of youth and innocence. Four years out of Hogwarts, however, the boy was determined to help his beloved uncle recover from his curse – a stain from the reign of the Dark Lord still valiantly clinging on to life. And the boy's eagerness to help, his need to heal his uncle, was an asset the Unspeakable couldn't refuse, no matter her assistant's age. After all, he was quite useful. Tilting her head, she silently urged the boy to continue.

"Miss! The results for the cruciatus test have come in, and are as expected – almost too much, Miss. Every result is _exactly the same_. The team had some theories, but we wanted to hear what you thought first."

The Unspeakable considered this for a second, before answering in a voice barely above a whisper, creaking and crackling like the torture curse. The assistant would know the similarities between the sounds – he had been working with Miss Evans for the past year and a half, studying the curse in such depth that he had been both receiver and caster too many times to count. Yes, the Unspeakable's voice was remarkably similar to that curse – dangerous, but in a way that made you wish it were deadly.

"Where are the results, boy?"

The assistant gulped as a shiver ran down his spine. When he'd started working with the Unspeakable, he'd thought he would, over time, become used to her voice. He had been sure of it.

He wished he would hurry up and get used to her.

"The results are in the study, Miss, under 3164101." The Unspeakable began walking again, striding in the other direction. The assistant hurried to keep up with her, barely managing with her fast pace – though how she was faster than him at her height he had no clue. "The team was hoping to convene with you some time today…"

The Unspeakable, in some part of her mind, pitied the poor thing, forced to play errand-boy between the bigger players of their task force, or more specifically, the Unspeakable and her more experienced workers, who had had the sense to band together as a unit in order to stand up to her, try to organise and rule her life. They hadn't managed it yet, although they were marginally harder to keep in line than her superiors. But they made for a nice challenge.

"I'll be meeting with them tomorrow when I get to work. Today I'm here on my own capacity." It wasn't unusual for the Unspeakable to tease her team like this. She did it when the mood struck her – they would request a meeting and she would postpone it to a time she preferred – most often an unspecified time such as 'when I get to work', 'after I return from lunch' or 'when I leave', in which case she would expect them to be ready for a meeting, waiting for her to enter, at basically any point in time. Tardiness was severely frowned upon. Not showing up at all was worse. When tests such as these struck the Unspeakable's fancy, her team had learnt to spend the entire day – midnight to the next – waiting for the meeting. The Unspeakable didn't punish them exactly – there was no sudden salary drop – however if a member – or the entire team – were late to a meeting…

The Unspeakable would be volunteering them for testing.

_Although her reason for her research into the Unforgivables was the killing curse, the Unspeakable had cast 'crucio' more than any other curse in her life._

"Ok, Miss: I'll go tell-" the rest of his words were lost to the Unspeakable by the slamming of her door.

Entering her private work area, Unspeakable Evans removed her jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door, and took out a small vial filled with a silvery liquid. Gliding over to her desk, she flicked her dark red hair behind her shoulders, and whistled two notes. At the sound of the notes, a wisp of something emerged from her coat as well, brushing the air towards her and wrapping itself casually around her neck.

"Stuff, I told you to stay put. In fact, I was sure I locked your cage." Her voice was silky smooth, yet reprimanding. The Stuff seemed to sag and shuffle guiltily, trying to nuzzle her cheek and insight some forgiveness.

It worked.

"Oh, alright: Just don't do it again." The Unspeakable smirked a bit – perhaps trying to feel as if she wasn't the one giving in. Then again, maybe she wasn't – after all, reverse psychology was a bitch. Yet the part of Stuff that was the patronus charm tended to induce satisfaction in those it touched – particularly those it wanted to feel satisfied. So maybe the pet was in control. Neither liked to think on it much.

Sighing, the Unspeakable twitched her wand at the desk. Immediately, it began to shift: sliding down and out to form a penseive. Then she uncorked the vial, allowing it's murky contents to mar the pristine liquid of the basin. She watched the memories fall, fall, fall, never quite hitting the bottom, just falling, for a second before she picked up her wand with resolve.

As she cast, she couldn't help the smile of euphoria gradually rising over her face.

_-NoR-_

The next morning, the Harry and the Slytherins didn't need an alarm to wake them: they were up bright and early, practically climbing over each other to make it to the Great Hall in time for Ethan's (and Thomas') grand entrance. No matter how tired Harry was from his mother's legiliwhatsit that had taken up so much time last night, and how annoyed he was at being three inches short in his History of Magic essay, _still_, he was sure Ethan's… different face would cheer him up.

Sure enough, as the mulberry boy entered the room, Harry satisfaction like nothing else. He couldn't resist the smirk that rose to his face as the boy – who had originally been turned blue, yet whose angry face had changed the shade to purple – made his way over to the house of green.

"Hello, brother, what brings you to Slytherin? I'm sorry, but Pansy won't let you stay here long – I'm told that green just doesn't look right on someone of your complexion." Harry and the Slytherins started snickering; finally getting the chance to use the line they'd spent half an hour working on in the common room the night before. They were ready for Ethan's next words: something along the lines of 'you will pay', so that they could use their next witty line (which Draco had reserved) however Ethan didn't respond as they'd expected.

"I don't know what you were thinking, _Harry_, but that dog was too far. You had better be on your toes, because you are going to rue the day you decided to become a slimy Slytherin." And with that, Ethan stormed off, Thomas trailing behind him, looking a little lost.

"What was that?" Daphne echoed the sentiment pouring through their minds. Where had this dog come from? Surely Ethan hadn't gone _inside _the room… But how had Ethan even managed that? They'd tried the door when they'd left the spells on the area beside it, of course, but it hadn't opened, and none of them could think of any spells to unlock things – which begged the question of how _Ethan _had managed. They received their answer when they saw a blue Granger-girl enter the room.

"So she knows an unlocking charm but can't manage a simple spell reversal?" Pansy sneered derisively; jealously, Harry thought.

"Hey Pansy, your colour-changing jinx is pretty obscure: I bet third years don't know it." Harry said, trying to cheer his friend up. It worked, because Pansy flashed him a quick smile before turning to glare broodingly again at Granger.

"But still – a dog of some sort on the other side of the door… Maybe one of Hagrid's pets?" Theodore put forward, sparking Harry's interest.

"Yes – but wouldn't he keep it out in his hut – or if it was too big, the forest?" He wondered aloud. Then Draco took up the reigns.

"Well, it can't be a normal dog – probably a big one… Which would also explain Dumbledore's warning at the start of term about 'a very painful death'… But maybe it's guarding something!"

"But what would be this important? What could be so valuable that they needed the security of _Hogwarts _to guard it – surely it could have been put in Gringotts?" Daphne questioned, rather puzzled.

The group puzzled over this, until Blaise, who was really only on the fringes of the group, said, "Maybe the people trying to steal it are just that big."

Their eyes widened – someone _powerful _enough to break into Gringotts was probably coming after whatever was being guarded – something important. Well, that's if the dog was guarding anything at all.

Harry, Draco, Daphne, Theodore and Pansy met eyes.

They would be finding out exactly what that dog was up to.

_-NoR-_

Well, here's the chapter! Please tell me what you think in a REVIEW!

Also, I'd love to hear your opinion on whether or not I should add a pairing: Lily/Severus. It's your choice, and it won't be for a while, but it'd be helpful if I could have some help now.

Thanks,

Claire!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Nightmares of Reality

**Author: **Claire (.morbidity)

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Family/Tragedy

**Pairings: **Not the main part of the story, but there will be a few where they contribute to the plot. Mostly between adults, barely anything with the teens, nothing with kids. **Pairing Warning:** none of the relationships will be nice. They'll probably all come crashing down. There's Lily/James and much later Lily with Severus Snape, along with possibly a few other pairings but they won't be the main focus and will _not _be lovey-dovey romance. Be warned.

In case you were wondering, no: there will not be a Harry/Lily pairing.

**Warnings: **Probably eventual murder, insanity (not the happy kind so prevalent in fanfics: the scary, dark, serious talk with your psychiatrist kind), death, torture, nastiness in general, in this chapter specifically there's child-hating, eleven-year-old-scaring, lots more scaring of eleven year olds, a few people are called Mudbloods, Lily's mean to Snape and, naturally, spoilers.

Also, I feel I should warn you that the rating is T right now because I think the story will get darker. Right now I'd estimate as a K+, although correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that by the end it will be M. For the eventual insanity and torture.

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to JKR. Especially the words "Troll – In the dungeons-" and "Thought you ought to know." Probably a few other bits too, but as I move through the fic I'm moving away from the whole copying thing. Not that I'm doing it too much anyway. From what I can tell.

**Extended Summary: **The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.

**Notes: **So here's chapter. Really super sorry about the delay – I was moving and on holiday… my computer _and _books were packed away… And I had no Internet for _weeks_, which I barely lived through…I don't know when the next chapter's coming out. Hopefully in two weeks or so. *Crosses fingers*

Thanks for the reviews!

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 6**

_-NoR-_

Although they tried, Harry and his Slytherins didn't get a chance to investigate the third floor for many weeks. Homework, classes and more homework seemed to be taking over their lives: for Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall now had them writing an eight inch essay a week, although Tracey Davis swore it was only for Slytherins that she gave this amount (not that Tracey would know; she had no friends in the other houses), while Professor Snape demanded ten inches for every lesson. They were reading a new book every weekend for Charms class, and even Professor Umbridge's classes were becoming more taxing. Added to that, was the 'Magical Society and It's Environment' class – or MSIE – and the workload was impossible.

Not to mention the teacher was completely insufferable.

It was obvious from the moment the Professor stepped into the Great Hall that the man was not fit to teach. He'd entered, nose in the air, robes, so covered in patterns and stitching they reminded Harry of the quilts and rugs his mother had inherited from her own mother, trailing after him and a sneer on his face. The man would have looked strong, young and healthy had it not been for the gray hair and the way his skin sagged and wrinkled. He looked like a twenty-year-old boy stuffed into an old man's skin.

When he had reached the head table he had stopped and turned around, finally looking at the students he would be teaching. His face had been overcome with horror.

"Albus," he had said, voice too smooth to be natural, "you didn't tell me there'd be _children_."

As a whole, the student body had taken a great dislike to their new professor. Some of the seventh years had charmed their way into his good graces, and he tolerated a few select sixth years, but no one in Slytherin liked him. Not even the ones who were receiving good marks on their homework.

It was in his first class that Harry decided that he truly couldn't stand the man.

"Class, my name is Nicolas Flamel." He said this as if he expected them to bow down in awe at his very name, oozing with superiority. "That is Professor Flamel to you, and I am over six hundred years old. You will respect me. In this classroom I will have no talking, no chatting, no back talk, no staring, no sniggering, no passing notes, no yawning, no fighting, no eye-rolling, no biting nails, no coughing, no laughing, no chuckling, no smiling, no lip-biting, no smirking, no noise, no sleeping, no finger-tapping, no foot-tapping, no tapping in general, no mouthing off, no pointing, no hand-raising, and above all, _no questions_. I am here to teach you and I don't have time for your meaningless drivel. If you don't understand something it's your own fault for not having the intelligence required to follow my lectures. Then again, this is to be expected: you are, after all, _children_. In light of this, it is recommended that you attempt to read to discover the answers to your problems. If you are incapable of this you're an utter imbecile and you deserve to fail."

Harry knew he wasn't the only one of his classmates staring in dismay. The man was terrible, revolting… He was a _teacher_… or he was supposed to be.

"If you break any one of my rules you will lose twenty house points. Break another and you will lose another eighty, and earn a detention. The third rule you break will result in detention for a week and the loss of one hundred and sixty house points. You do not want to know what the breaking of a fourth rule will amount to." He sneered again, and turned around to begin class.

It seemed to go on for hours. Flamel droned on about how wizards were called wizards because they used magic, and how 'wizard' was a generic term for a witch or wizard and how they used wands because that was how they controlled magic and every other bit of information a two-year-old muggle could pick up after five minutes in Diagon Alley.

Then, to top it all off, Flamel assigned them an entire scroll of parchment for an essay on the effectiveness of Muggleborn introduction into the Wizarding world in Britain.

None of his friends had been stupid enough to incite the man's wrath, however Goyle had managed to yawn, losing Slytherin twenty points.

Draco, however, had heard from Pansy, who'd heard from Tracey, who'd heard from her brother, the fourth year Jack Davis, who'd heard from his friend Garth Hamersley, who'd overheard two sixth years talking about a girl in their year's brother who'd stood up to the man.

Apparently the boy was still in the hospital wing, two days after, and wasn't to be seen in the Slytherin common room for a month at least. Harry didn't put much stock in this, particularly as the rumour had come through the _Davis _siblings, but he thought that at least the part about someone standing up to him might be true.

Of course, Blaise, whose half-sibling was in Ravenclaw, told them that people from the other houses hadn't listened at all to the man's warnings: in fact if rumour had it true (which was, admittedly, unlikely) the entire class of fifth year Gryffindors had walked out. The fact that their house points were the lowest in decades, however, increased the likelihood of its occurrence. Draco, however, had made sure everyone knew that he doubted it was the _whole _fifth year Gryffindor class, because Percy Weasley was in that year and everyone knew how migraine inducing the prefect was. Draco even suspected that the Weasley boy would be taking lessons from Flamel. It was at times like these that Harry wondered how deeply obsessed Draco was with the Malfoy-Weasley feud.

As Harry entered the MSIE classroom for the third time that week, he found himself wondering what Ethan thought of the man, as neither had ever met anyone quite this horrid – not even Snape was this bad!

Then Harry told himself to stop thinking about his twin, because if there was a person who deserved Flamel, it was Ethan.

_-NoR-_

Harry tossed a grin at Draco, who smirked back. After two weeks of planning, they were finally going to do it. It sent shivers of excitement down his spine and into his toes. He could barely stand still: he couldn't wait.

"It's the night!" He whispered hoarsely, and Draco nodded back, eyes calculating and determined. They were to meet Pansy and Daphne on the third floor corridor as they had decided going in small groups would be easiest. The rest of their classmates were back in the dorms, covering for them. When the idea had first been proposed, everyone had wanted to go but once it had been decided that only four would go Harry had nominated himself, with Draco as his partner. Everyone had backed down and agreed immediately, leaving Harry to wonder where their enthusiasm had disappeared. Were they so unwilling to do things with him involved? But he'd pushed it out of his mind as Pansy and Daphne had elected themselves to be the other team.

And now, they were going to find out what was hidden there.

They didn't know what to expect, apart from a big dog. They assumed they'd have to get past it, so Draco had discreetly ordered a potion that would knock an animal like a dog out so they could sneak past. Harry had researched unlocking charms with Daphne, and they had practiced on their classmate's trunks.

They were ready.

Harry and Draco crept through the halls, as silently as they could, trying to stick to the shadows created by the flickering, ominous, lamps. Up stairs, through passages, running away from professors… Eventually, they made it to the corridor, with Pansy and Daphne joining them only a few scant beats later.

"Almost ran into Filch." Daphne hushed as Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door.

This was it.

This was the moment.

"_Alohamora_."

The lock clicked, and the door opened.

The first thing Harry heard was breathing. The slow, heavy breath of a large animal… Make that the slow, steady _breaths_ of _large animals_. But it couldn't be, because Ethan had only mentioned one animal. And Ethan had thought Harry had put the beast there, or at least known about it, so he wouldn't have had a reason to lie. Something odd was happening.

The next thing Harry heard was a growl. Low and guttural, it left Harry's hairs standing on end. He shivered slightly, feeling the others do the same. They couldn't see what was in there, but it sounded terrifying. Deciding to be brave, Harry stepped inside.

And then something lunged at him. Shrieking, Harry flung himself back to where Draco, Pansy and Daphne were, barely making it out of the room before the dog's massive head stuck its way through the door, barking at the top of it's doggy lungs. Terrified, they stumbled back, tripping over each other to get away from the thing. It pushed at the stone arch, nostrils flaring, trying desperately to fit through the arch, whining and barking simultaneously. Harry, curled into a ball, felt his heart beat double speed. His eyes never left the menacing, strangely pitiful sight.

After what seemed like an age, the dog pulled back into the darkness. As one, the Slytherins rose.

"What was that?" Harry wasn't sure who asked the question, but it played upon their minds: what was that? What was that? What was that?

No one answered, but Daphne moved ahead, leaning against the wall next to the door so she wasn't in _its_ line of sight, urging the others to follow her. Quietly, she cast a lumos spell, and peeped inside. There was a clattering. She had dropped her wand, the spell failing with it.

She turned back to the others, and Harry knew their question was written all over their faces. But the ghost-struck girl couldn't answer. So Draco, who was the next closest to the door, moved to cast another lumos, pulling Pansy and Harry around behind him so they could also see. The tip of his wand lit up with deathly pale white light, bouncing off the stone walls creepily, glowing slightly.

In the room was the most monstrous thing Harry had ever seen. He felt his eyes pop out at it: the monstrosity. Gargantuan, saliva dribbling down its cheeks, fangs visible, three heads…

"_Cerberus._"

It was Pansy who said it, barely louder than a whisper, but it heard. Its heads snapped up to stare at her: six eyes growling at the students. There was a second when nobody moved.

Then the next the monstrosity was barking and everyone was backing away from the door, grabbing it and slamming it shut.

Nobody mentioned the third floor corridor again.

_-NoR-_

Thousands of floating jack o'lanterns decorated the hall with shadowed flashes of yellow and orange, dark bats swooping between them creating incoherent shapes on the walls. Below were tables covered in silken white tablecloths rimmed with black and orange ribbon, and again in sweets. Excited children whispered to each other as fast as lightning, unable to contain their eagerness. The ghost choir were singing louder than ever, though for the first time the students could see them.

The ghosts were a sight to behold: pictures of mounted knights, chivalrous and brave, fair maidens, ruthless villains and dashing noblemen sprang to mind. They were from a time quite unknown and strange, not quite fitting in, a faded outline.

Yet tonight, in the dim candlelight, they seemed alive.

Off to the side, an orchestra played. The ghosts never paused, and they never tired. Indeed one colourful ghost, playing the bass drum, only grew more intense as he played on. Every time he hit the drum the people closest to it winced a bit, but they didn't mind too much: every time he did a new batch of candies would fall from the sky, mysteriously missing the lanterns on the way.

Everywhere children chattered and nattered and spluttered on about this and that, without a care in the world.

Harry was confused. Around him, people were – celebrating.

His puzzled glances must have drawn his friends' attention, because soon Draco was asking him, "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry's face made a frown, unsure of how to phrase the question best. He'd never been to a Halloween feast, so he wouldn't pretend to know what was supposed to be going on, but he'd come to suspect there'd be less…

"Why is everyone so happy?" He asked, staring at a bread roll as he tore it apart, trying to ignore the looks of his Slytherins. "I know it's a feast and there's lollies, but whenever we've celebrated it at home we've never been so…"

He trailed off, unable to explain. Thankfully, they seemed to know what he meant.

"Oh, don't worry Harry." Pansy said with a small gasp. "I understand _perfectly_."

Draco then quickly grabbed Harry's wrist before he could eat the bread he was holding. Harry turned to him, surprised, but Draco didn't notice and continued.

"My family never celebrates, either. I consider it terribly distasteful to do so."

Daphne, directly opposite him, flicked a toffee at him. It hit his hand before it rebounded onto his plate and he winced a bit, but the girl paid him no mind.

"It's the Mudblood influence. Ever since the Dark Lord's defeat they've seen the night as a time of good memories. Of course, before that night we purebloods celebrated Halloween, but now it's become almost a shame to do it." She sniffed slightly, but threw Harry a warm smile.

"They've ruined a good holiday." Draco maintained. "Father can't stand going to the parties these days, all celebrating _His_ defeat, and not what truly happened that night, it makes him sick. But appearances must be upheld."

This explained a lot to Harry. Those people were happy because the Dark Lord had died that day, ten years ago, because of Ethan. Gazing over to the Gryffindor table, Harry now saw that Ethan's ever-present admirers were staring at him with even less subtlety than usual – not that his brother noticed. But it also explained why Harry's family had never joined in on the partying:

While they enjoyed the Dark Lord's death, Harry's family had suffered. That day, their lives had been ruined.

Harry gave a weak smile at his friends. At least they understood.

"And then you get idiot Mudbloods like Goldstein," Pansy butted in, ruining the moment completely, "who insist that we should be observing _Samhain _instead! We're not from the fifteen hundreds!"

"Pansy, how many times do we have to tell you: Goldstein's not a Mudblood. His family can trace back their history longer than you. _Just _because their family's isolated enough to still think wizards can't fly, it doesn't mean…" Theodore launched into explanation of why, exactly, Pansy shouldn't be calling the last, and consequently first to attend Hogwarts, scion of the Goldstein family a Mudblood, and everything returned to normal. Harry unwrapped the toffee Daphne had given him and listened to Theodore and Pansy go back and forth about whether or not ignorance classified as worthiness of Mudbloodism. It made him think back to what his dad had told him, weeks earlier: that Mudblood was just an insult, possible to be applied to anyone but still incredibly rude. Harry had stopped using the word after that talk, trying to find better words to insult people (a common pastime in the Slytherin common room), but when his friends had used it Harry hadn't said anything about it. They could call people whatever they wanted; it wasn't Harry's place to tell them how to insult people. Pansy and Theodore's argument had just moved onto whether or not blood traitors classified as Mudbloods when the doors banged open.

"Troll – In the dungeons-"

Professor Quirrell burst through the doors, shrieking at the top of his lungs. The entire hall stared at him in shock.

"Thought you ought to know."

The professor fell to the floor.

There was silence for a second, before the four houses erupted in noise.

"Are we going to die?"

"Troll! A troll!"

"I want to go home!"

"A troll!"

Several purple firecrackers later, Dumbledore returned order to the school.

The wizened man was standing at the high table, looking sternly down at them. He cut a surprisingly impressive figure, never mind the bright orange robes he wore. Standing as he was now, it was no wonder the elderly wizard was probably the most respected man in the Wizarding world.

"The prefects will escort the students to their dorms. Everyone is to stay in their common rooms until tomorrow when the heads of houses have given the okay. The teachers will take care of this threat."

With that, everyone stood. Harry felt Pansy clutch his arm, while Draco stood by the other. They made their way, refusing to acknowledge the way their limbs shook, over to the seventh year prefects who were calling them, the others trailing on behind.

"Are trolls dangerous?" Millicent was the first to speak. Her voice was hushed and frail for once. The first years glance nervously around at each other. Some had heard stories, others hadn't.

"I heard that trolls eat people – mostly kids." Pansy whispered in a high, fragile voice, as if she was trying not to hear what she was saying. "They catch them, then they knock them out and carry them too their home. And then, once they wake up, they eat them," she paused, then continued hoarsely, "_alive_."

Harry felt sick, but glancing at the prefects, they didn't look too worried. Harry thought they were mad. From what his father had told him about trolls…

As a unit, the first years followed the prefects out of the great hall. As they walked, Harry couldn't help but notice the extreme differences in the demeanours of his classmates and the seventh years. While Harry and his friends were scared beyond belief, though Blaise, Tracey and Daphne were quite good at hiding it, the seventh and even sixth and fifth years were quite blatantly… not. As Harry was pondering this, Theodore had a thought.

"Wait on a second. Didn't Quirrell say the troll was in the dungeons?"

Harry felt the circulation in his right hand cut off as Pansy's grip threatened to numb it. Would the troll get them? Would it eat them like Pansy said it would? Would Ethan come to his funeral?

Why was he thinking about bloody _Ethan_ at a time like this?

As the first years huddled closer, unfortunately the other Slytherins around them didn't have the same reaction.

"What, scared?" The female prefect looked over her shoulder, pausing in her stride to give them a sharklike grin. She flicked her head back and continued on quickly, taking large steps forcing Harry and the others to practically run to keep up.

"We're _seventh years_. We can take on a bloody troll."

Harry absently noticed that she seemed to be chewing gum – there had been some at the feast.

"But don't worry." The male prefect said from beside their cluster, towering over them and smiling easily. "If we run into it, we've got a one hundred percent foolproof plan."

Harry felt relief wash over him. Everything was going to be fine.

Blaise, however, didn't seem so sure.

"What's your plan?"

The prefect's smile morphed into a smirk that left Harry chilled to the bones.

"We leave you lot," he pointed at their group, "to distract it while we run."

Then he gave a short laugh and strode forwards, flinging an arm around his fellow prefect's shoulder, with her arm slinking around his own.

Harry glanced at Draco.

"They were just joking, for sure." The blonde said, although he didn't sound completely certain.

But from that point until the common room they made sure to keep a lookout for trolls: if they were first to see it they'd have a split second advantage in which they could make a break for it and hope the other Slytherins weren't bothered to chase down some first years to put in its path in their own flight.

As soon as they entered the common room they took some food to the boys' dormitory, where they set up camp with as many spell books they could find on the fly. Harry began explaining to them the shield charm and stunner his mother had taught him, helping them learn the spells. But both charms were difficult and Harry realised it would take longer than an evening for even Draco to master them, so they moved on to other, simpler options.

If they'd been able to do the Leg-Locker Curse when faced with the troll, it would have been the prefects who'd have been in trouble. Or at least Harry and his Slytherins could have escaped after turning on the other first years.

_-NoR-_

_The stone…_

…_He wanted that stone…_

_Such a pretty thing…_

_Pretty stone. Pretty red stone._

…_Give him the stone…_

_Blood red stone._

…_Give me the stone…_

_Young, insecure hands clutched youthful wand. Hand waved complex motions, overseen by glaring eyes, glaring at the pretty red stone._

_All his hopes and dreams…_

"_You won't get the stone, boy." Withered old man glared and sneered._

_So close, within arms reach. A single old man stood between success and failure, eternity and mortality, deification and humanisation…_

"_We won't let someone who would only do evil have our stone."_

_New presence entered room. Younger, deadlier… "It's _my _stone, you silly little boy." Female voice scratched out._

_Candlelight flickered._

_He needed it… Desperation called…_

_He was gliding through a tunnel, too small for a meagre human to fit, but for a spirit…_

_He latched onto a goblin, disgusting little creature, and found the vault with ease… Its number was the date… Far too simple._

_Effortlessly, he opened the vault, but it contained nothing…_

_The stone was at Hogwarts…_

_He had known this would happen…_

_It was at Hogwarts…_

_But now it was guarded by the beast of hell itself._

_He had thwarted hell's gate before._

You must destroy Flamel. It is the only way. He is all that stands in my path.

_Always… He was always in the way…_

Kill him.

_-NoR-_

Lily watched her shaking son leave the room with curiosity. The latest dream… To say it was disturbing, while true, implied that it was more so than any other dream he'd ever had. But all Harry's visions were unsettling; even the memory of Amy Benson pulling the child Dark Lord's hair… Voldemort, no matter what form, always managed to add a touch of the disconcerting to the people around him.

"Interesting, to say the least." She commented casually to Severus, hovering in the corner of his office. Giving him an easy smile, she nodded towards the seat Harry had just vacated: plump and squishy because all too often he was knocked out by her probing, slightly lower than her own stone chair behind the desk. Although she couldn't hear it, she knew Severus was grumbling inside at having to sit in the thing. But he would never think of conjuring a new one after she'd indicated his place.

"It appears Voldemort is, indeed, after the stone." Severus agreed, his black eyes staring into her own, trying to convey some deeper message. Lily just smiled wanly, and turned her gaze to her fingernails. They were becoming rather grubby; she needed a manicure. She wouldn't risk going into the magical world, no matter how good Frizz's Hair and Nail Salon was, but maybe as Delilah Evans she could go into the muggle world and get them done. The muggle way was dreadfully mundane, but it was safer for her not to be seen. Besides, she did like acting the part of Delilah. It was… Fun.

"Hmm… Yes. And Harry's dreams seem to imply that Quirrell is working for him, but they're all so vague. You're fairly certain?" One of the major problems they were facing with trying to extract information from Harry was his own magic's natural resistance. Lily had seen it many times: the mind and magic of victims of nightmares working in tandem to block off the memories. In Harry's case this was working, and so, particularly for nightmares that hadn't been seen any time recently, nobody could recreate the subtle details. They didn't have this problem with the visions he'd had in the day, or the dreams that seemed nicer. In one dream, Lily was fairly certain Voldemort had spoken to Quirrell, but she may have been wrong.

"Quirrell released the troll on Halloween. He was bringing it in to guard the stone, on Dumbledore's orders, but he managed to _lose control_ of it, at the perfect moment for a diversion… I went to check the third floor corridor myself."

Lily glanced at him. "Did you see him?" She asked, slightly teasing, as she already knew the answer. Severus would have told her outright if he'd actually caught the man in the act – in fact he'd have told professor Dumbledore, and Quirrell would be on his way to Azkaban.

Severus shot a half-hearted glare at her, not bothering to answer. Lily gave a tinkling giggle, biting her lip to keep away the smirk threatening to appear when the man in front of her turned away. Lily would swear his cheeks were slightly pink.

But now was not the time to tease Severus about his little crush.

"But as all evidence points towards our dear defence professor, we should keep an eye on him. You will, Severus, won't you?" Lily's eyes widened slightly, but Severus wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the pensieve in the corner, dark soulless eyes giving no hint as to what was going on behind them.

"Dumbledore has already asked this of me."

Lily hummed in agreement, also staring off into space. She wouldn't mention it, but in the dreams, it sometimes seemed as if Dark Lord were at Hogwarts… but it was preposterous. He wouldn't dare: not with Dumbledore around. But she felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought of that thing being anywhere near Harry and Ethan. The last time…

Glancing around for something to take her mind off _that_, she happened to notice her friend's leg. Or rather, what had once been his leg. He had let his robes fall to the side, after which it was hard _not _to notice the festering wound dribbling with dried blood. When he was sure she had stared long enough he covered it once more with a glare, as if he hadn't been trying to insight her sympathy. It truly was a ghastly thing, but Severus should know it would take more than scars to impress her. She had covered enough mutilations to laugh at the miserable graze.

So she smiled smugly and went back to her analysis.

"And now it appears we have a murder-to-be on our hands. '_You must destroy Flamel.'_ It did sound rather ominous."

Severus scowled at her lack of interest in her leg, but he scowled so often that Lily had long ceased caring for the look he wore on his face. His bitter words had more taste, while his obsession with her was even more amusing.

"Dumbledore did argue against Flamel being here, especially as he will soon be vulnerable. With the stone under such high security he isn't able to retrieve the Elixir of Life. Soon he will be as mortal as the rest of us."

Lily hummed in agreement. She was thinking about Nicolas Flamel. She had never met him herself, but he was said to have a strong personality. A bit eccentric, but what can you expect of a man over six hundred years old? He was a friend of the Headmaster's so he would have to have good intentions, but from the way Harry and Ethan described him in their letters he was anything but nice. A child-hater, but still someone Dumbledore was on amiable terms with was sure to be an interesting fellow…

"But Flamel is ready to die." She continued where Severus had left off. "His protections on the stone prove it. He wants to die, and he will even if Dumbledore doesn't want to see his oldest friend go…"

"He will let it happen, because he respects Flamel's wishes." Severus continued. It was at times like these that Lily was reminded of their school days: in the library, reading some book about potions and discovering, together, a new alteration they would make… Hours later they would attempt it, either jotting it down in their textbooks or running to the hospital wing with a bad case of exploding potions. It brought back smiles.

"Yes… The Dark Lord doesn't yet know that the destruction of Flamel is the easy part." To want to die… Lily had never heard something so preposterous. The man had created the _Philosopher's Stone_, producer of the _Elixir of Life_, yet he wanted to die… Yet in a way Lily could understand it. To have spent over six hundred years alive would be tedious to say the least. Life was tiring, she knew, with all the people staring at her, wondering if the Dark Lord had spared her because she was his servant, whispering in fear behind her back; she could understand Flamel very well. And to spend so long simply _living_… and now is so different from then. Children don't show their respect to their elders in quite the same way, which was possibly why Flamel couldn't stand to be around those younger than seventeen.

"I think someone has overtaken you as 'most universally hated teacher at Hogwarts', Severus." She brushed aside her thoughts. She was done with crabby old men and megalomaniacs tonight. Now was the time for teasing old friends. Severus was unimpressed.

"He has also taken 'worst teacher' from Trelawney, and 'most annoying voice' from Quirrell. Unfortunately he doesn't appear to have any inclination towards alcohol so he can't take Umbridge's title of 'most drunk', but I'm still holding out for a few addictive potions to take away Trelawney's 'highest'. He has not given a single point so far, yet he took more points on his first day than I do in a month. I believe he will soon get his wish of a quick death: the student body will see to it if the Dark Lord doesn't."

Lily bit her lip to keep herself from laughing: an old habit from those times in the library where something Severus had said would just make her want to _die_ it was so funny, but Madam Pince would be glaring at her so hard that she knew that if she dared even twitch she and her accomplice would be thrown from the library, not to return for a month. But she couldn't keep the smile from coming to her face.

The conversation, from there, turned to their own teachers. Nostalgic spirits then carried them to Hogwarts, and the happy times they'd spent together, taking care to never mention their lives as upper year students at Hogwarts. After fifth year, everything turned bad. And neither wanted to think of the bad at that moment.

So they drank and talked and laughed and talked until neither could remember houses or blood or family or names…

But as the clock struck twelve Lily had to leave. She was dimly aware of the sobering potion she'd prepared before leaving work. She slowly drew the vial from her pocket, clumsily uncorking it and shoving the contents down her throat. It took all her will not to gag.

Next to her on the lounge (when had they moved to Severus' private rooms?) Severus was retching down his own concoction, the next second racing to the bathroom to heave up the alcohol. Lily shook her head: Severus' brew was a silly potion. Severus preferred to be rid of everything in one blast: a disgusting potion, sickness, and then the poison in the system was gone. The next day, he would have no hangover to speak of except perhaps a surlier mood than usual. Lily, however, favoured a milder tasting potion that left the drinker still slightly tipsy. During the night a fever of sorts would run its course, during which the alcohol would be burnt up, and the next day the only side effects she would suffer were slight exhaustion.

As Severus came limping from the bathroom, Lily stared once again at the wound.

"Why not go to St Mungo's? They have remedies for Cerberus bite."

Severus collapsed down on the couch next to her.

"People would wonder what happened; why I was bitten by a Cerberus. Soon Hogwarts would be put under scrutiny…"

Lily nodded, accepting this. Slowly she stood, ambling over to the fireplace at an easy pace. It had been good to spend time with her oldest friend. But now she thought for a moment. About that leg…

"I'll send someone over for you tomorrow." She said as she stood by the fire, hand reaching into the floo pot. Severus immediately protested.

"Lily, it's no trouble-"

But Lily shushed him.

"Yes, it's really no trouble at all, Severus. We have a new healer in my department and it'll do him some good to have a hands-on situation. And the unspeakables know better than to disobey me."

With her words all amiability swept from the room, revealing the old tension between them. Severus froze up, while Lily lifted her chin and threw in the floo powder. With a shout, she was gone.

_-NoR-_

Harry sealed the last letter with relief. It had taken him an hour and a half, and a great deal of wasted parchment, but hopefully now Aunt Bathilda would stop sending letters asking how 'dear little Albus' was and filled with 'subtle' requests to write. And maybe the Earth would stop moving and Hufflepuffs were evil. But at the very least Harry thought he could get some help for History of Magic. His pseudo-aunt had, after all, written the textbook.

Stuffing the letters into his bag, Harry mumbled a few words to his friends about going to the owlery. They nodded, but no one offered to accompany him. It was the Sunday afternoon routine the first years had adopted: they would do their own work and not move. The atmosphere in the common room was that of a reptile basking in the sun: lazy and soaking the heat up for all it was worth. But despite the sluggish feel to the air, the Slytherins were hard at work, silently finishing the homework due in the morning that they should have finished Friday night. There was a silent agreement between them to not cater to each other's whims on Sunday afternoons.

The agreement began early on in the term, but it wasn't fully formed until after Halloween. Two weeks into November now, the Slytherin first years had bonded over their scare. Even Harry felt more comfortable with his friends – although less so with the upper years. Later when they'd spoken about the scare the prefects had given them, they'd realised that the prefects wouldn't have been able to get away with it and, what's more, the prefects knew they could never leave the first years as bait. If they had, they would have been expelled, or given detention or stripped of their status as prefect at least. But they still weren't able to look at the prefects who'd tormented them without remembering Halloween.

So now their silent agreement was formed. And it didn't only include Sunday afternoons. It also involved not ratting on other first years, because you never knew when you'd want an alibi for yourself. It said that you would not allow another to sleep in after seven thirty on a weekday, because you never knew when your own alarm would fail. Then there were specific clauses relating to certain people, for example letting Blaise act like an idiot each morning trying to find his wand, although nobody believed him anymore. There was another clause stating that Tracey Davis was the person to go to for gossip. And there was also a whole section devoted to the brilliance of Lucius Malfoy and, by association his son. This was one of the few rules with severe consequences involved if broken (Draco would descend on you), yet it was also one of the few that wouldn't lead to becoming an outcast (the others would congratulate you). Another stated that Draco, Daphne, Pansy and Harry were their own group, on the frontlines in their war against the world. If there were a confrontation with Gryffindors, it would be their group who instigated or retaliated. They were the face of the Slytherin first years, although Harry now realised that this had only been formalised the night they had discovered the Cerberus. Which was another part of the unspoken pact: do not mention the third floor corridor.

So now every Sunday they sat in peaceful silence finishing homework, writing letters, reading or just sleeping. If the common room became too noisy they would relocate to the boys' dormitory, because the boys weren't allowed in the girls. And everything was relaxed, serene, still…

But Harry couldn't stand it. The stillness, the drowsy movements... It made Harry want to scream. In moments like these he felt so confined. He really missed his broom: he hadn't flown since August. But first years weren't allowed brooms. Another rule made for the Mudbloods. And although Harry flinched internally as his mind provided the word for him, he couldn't regret it. In this context, they should be called Mudbloods. Because of them he couldn't fly.

And Harry was itching for movement.

The walk to the owlery was a long one: Slytherin was in the bottom western corner of the castle, while the owls rested at the top of the tower in the east. But Harry was happy for the freedom to move about the castle and found himself jogging all the way. Before he knew it Harry was picking out a tawny owl to deliver his letters.

"Ok, so these are for Bathilda Bagshot, Selene and Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna Lovegood, Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ava Potter and James Potter." Harry told it, pointing out each letter in turn. Deliver the letters to the Potters last, and only wait for James Potter to give a reply. No matter what you do, don't wait for a reply from Bathilda Bagshot. Just deliver the letter and go. But wait for a reply from James." If Harry let Bathilda reply on that owl, she might get it into her head that Harry wanted her to write more often. And no matter how wonderful it was to have a rich old lady dote on you and give you spending money and treat you with cakes and lollies whenever you were over, she could become overbearing if you acted too eager. So Harry always made sure not to see her too often, and when he did he maintained the image of what she fondly referred to as a 'polite young man'.

Bathilda had lived in Godric's Hollow for who knows how long, and had always been friendly with the Potters. She had gone to Hogwarts with Harry's great-grandparents, had babysat his grandfather and had done the same for James. Even when James and Lily went into hiding she'd been in the know, making sure to drop by every once in a while. And she did tell some very amusing stories, and despite her age her memory was fantastic, remembering every little detail with sharp accuracy. Mostly. James did say to take her stories with a pinch of salt, but Harry had heard her speak about the goblin rebellions of 1872 and 1914 with such horror and sincerity that he couldn't doubt a single word from her mouth. When speaking about any of the four wars she'd seen in her life her face would become bleak and cold and her eyes would stare off into space as if she was seeing it all unfold again before her eyes while Harry and Ethan huddled up by her fireplace, eyes round with excitement. But then the trance would break and she'd be nattering on about what good little boys they were and how now they didn't have to worry – because bloody Ethan had saved them.

As Harry sent the owl off he realised it was getting dark. The sun was low in the sky and pink clouds were forming. It was also starting to get cold. He was just about to head inside when Professor Flamel burst into the owlery, sneering at the bird droppings. He hadn't noticed Harry, who, like the rest of the school, had learnt it was better not to draw attention to oneself where Professor Flamel was involved.

The man studied the birds for a few seconds, before picking out his owl. Harry stared in shock as the disgustingly horrible man adopted an almost delicate expression upon seeing the bird, giving a soft whistle as the beautiful white thing fluttered over to his shoulder. This man, standing before him, must be an imposter. There was no way this man, so caring with his owl, could be the same man who belittled them in class.

"Give this to my Penny, will you girl? She's having a hard time, so be gentle, won't you? She can't see that it's the only way yet. But she will, won't she girl? We'll tell her. Christmas is coming up. We'll give her the best Christmas she's ever had. Isn't it fitting for our last Christmas to be our best?"

Harry's heart stopped as the man gently lifted the bird off into flight. How could someone who hated children so much love anything? But the way he spoke to the bird left no doubt in Harry's mind that he loved the owl, and 'his Penny' he obviously adored. And what had he meant by 'last Christmas'? Were they going their separate ways?

Or was one of them going to die?

As Flamel turned, Harry thought he caught a tear in the man's eye.

And then the man's eyes locked directly onto his own.

"I know you're there boy." Harry stiffened in his hiding place behind the owls. "Come out now and I _won't _give you detention for the rest of the year."

It wasn't a tough decision. Holding his breath, Harry shuffled out into view, utterly terrified and heart racing.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to intrude…"

"You think I care, boy?" Harry flinched. "You _children_: always whining… You think the world revolves around you, don't you boy? I've lived over six hundred years, boy, and do you know what? I'm going to die in eleven months. I'll waste away, disintegrate, and rot into nothingness… And nobody will care."

Harry shook as the man loomed over him. But the professor had lost any notion that Harry was there at all.

"But it's my time, you see? It's time for me to leave – for the greater good and all that. I'm going to die and it will save millions of lives, but it won't matter one bit. And I would do it again, and again, and again to save their lives, but you children – you can't see anything beyond your own little worlds!"

And with that the man stomped from the room, down the staircase, leaving Harry breathless.

_-NoR-_

After that Sunday afternoon Harry couldn't get the tirade out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. The words would pound through his brain at the most inconvenient of times. Professor McGonagall would ask him a question about transfiguration and he wouldn't hear, instead his mind would be playing: 'and nobody will care'. Although his dreams were still of nothing but Voldemort, after he woke up he would be standing in the owlery, with the ranting man tearing into him, saying 'I'll waste away, disintegrate, and rot into nothingness.' When doing his astronomy homework he would look down and find he had written 'I'm going to die.' After that he'd had to start his homework all over again: professor Sinistra probably would have tried to have a serious talk with him if she'd found the words, even crossed out, written there. His friends had noticed that something was up, although he denied it at every turn, and his mother even had to cancel their Friday evening session one week because his mind was in such chaos. She hadn't been pleased.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of Flamel's speech. It was so passionate and full of feeling that Harry felt he couldn't even begin to understand it, but he knew it struck something in him. Flamel hadn't mentioned it again, but Harry thought the man was paying special attention to him as he lectured to their class about house elves. He certainly didn't say anything when Harry spaced out in lessons and began mouthing the words to his tirade.

Perhaps the worst event had been in potions class, where Harry hadn't been paying attention and his potion had turned black. Snape had been angry, to say the least, and had given Harry detention for idiocy, but Harry hadn't cared. His mind was stuck in the owlery still. He had nodded in acceptance, and then let his friends drag him from the class.

Then he had muttered, "I'm going to die."

"What?" Draco turned to face him. He hadn't been paying attention as he pulled Harry through the door, but the sound had caught his attention. But Draco didn't hear what Harry said.

Ethan did, turning to him with an unreadable emotion plastered onto his face.

"Going to die, _Harry_? Wish you'd hurry up then. It'd be the perfect Christmas present."

Harry had felt sick, but he hadn't reacted. He'd heard Ethan's words; they'd even pulled him from the daze. But he just felt too sick to say anything. Because if he did it would be obvious just how hurt he was by his brother's words. Instead he put on a blank face and walked as fast as he could away from the group of first years.

Nobody chased after him.

It was only when he reached the owlery that he began to cry.

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

AN: Whew. This chapter took a _long _time to write, but it's setting up a lot of things I have planned for both first year and the story as a whole.

Question I'd like answered before I get the next chapter up: _if _Nicolas Flamel's bird is Hedwig (and I'm still not sure that she is. She may just be a random snowy white bird), should she be named Hedwig? Or would that be _way _too much of a coincidence. On the other hand, I could never think of her as anything but Hedwig and it's not like Harry names his bird Hedwig and so another bird called Hedwig magically appears. And it's certainly not like Hedwig will ever be turning into a phoenix. But it _will _affect what happens next chapter… So please review (please note that this isn't a 'review or I won't update' but rather a 'please review to help me improve the story, I'll update eitherway'.

Also, in case she's Hedwig but under a different name, anyone have any good names for snowy white owls?

On another note, as I was writing, "_Why not go to St Mungo's? They have remedies for Cerberus bite." _I accidentally wrote 'Severus bite.' Beware, readers of fanfiction, of the dangerous Severus. It bites.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Nightmares of Reality

**Author: **Claire (.morbidity)

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Family/Tragedy

**Pairings: **I've changed my mind. There are going to be pairings, but they'll be a minimal part of the big picture. Mainly because it's hard to write a story about teenagers that will (probably) involve a dance that _doesn't _have pairings. But a **Pairing Warning:** none of the relationships will be nice. They'll probably all come crashing down. The main ones that I've figured out are LE/JP and LE/SS.

In case you were wondering, no: there will not be a Harry/Lily pairing.

**Warnings: **Probably eventual murder, insanity (not the happy kind so prevalent in fanfics: the scary, dark, serious talk with your psychiatrist kind), death, torture, nastiness in general, in this chapter specifically there's bad grammar, a scary Snape, someone dies and, naturally, spoilers.

Also, I feel I should warn you that the rating is T right now because I think the story will get darker. Right now I'd estimate as a K+, although correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that by the end it will be M. For the eventual insanity and torture.

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to JKR.

**Extended Summary: **The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.

**Notes: **

I've been asked for a summary of what's happened so far, so these are my notes on the chapters so far; also I've included the chapter names. In case you were wondering, this chapter is the unique and original 'Christmas':

Chapter 1: The beginning

Halloween: James is out, Voldemort spares Lily. He attacks Ethan, who survives, but both Harry and Ethan are left with scars

Sirius and Remus have set up a law firm, Ava is born sometime, and Harry has nightmares of the attack

Diagon alley: family is disguised

Ollivander's: Harry gets Holly wand

Harry mobbed in Diagon Alley, has TR flashback

Chapter 2: Meet Delilah

Harry/Ethan have magic lessons with lily

All family but Harry spend night before Hogwarts together, comforting each other

Harry dreams of Voldemort turning into Quirrell

Harry overhears the late-night comfort session and becomes hurt

Platform 9 and ¾ harry overhears Ethan: lots of misunderstanding

Harry dreams Tom practices crucio, etc. and obliviate on Charity

Lily pretends to be 'Delilah Evans'

Lily and James talk, lily stuns James and walks out.

Chapter 3: The Slytherins

Train:

Harry meets Ron

Harry hates Neville, his old playmate

Harry is annoyed by Hermione

Harry goes with Draco and meets 'the Slytherins'

Before sorting Harry calls Justin a Mudblood

Ethan and Harry not friends now

Harry sorted Slytherin

Chapter 4: Caring

Harry's first day – late to breakfast

Lessons are interesting

Harry/Ethan rivalry

Harry's first potions lesson

Ethan and harry have rivalry

Flashback when Snape uses legilimency: Tom practices legilimency on Balendin Lestrange

Harry's friends help him deal with attention

Lily, Harry and Snape figure out about Harry's connection to Voldemort

Lily obliviates James when he figures out she's lied

Chapter 5: All he wanted

Flying lesson: Ethan knocks Harry out, Harry makes up with Lily and James

Lily in DoM

Harry dreams about Quirrel and the stone

James and Ava – Ava is a freaky child

'Midnight duel' that didn't happen: Harry and co. set up surprise for Ethan in the Third Floor Corridor

Chapter 6: Halloween

MSIE class with Nicolas Flamel: Hufflepuffs

Halloween

Troll is no big issue, but it freaks out 'the Slytherins'

Harry dreams of someone rebuking Quirrel… and about the stone

Riddle's first time trying to get the stone

Featuring Penny and Nicolas and 'Lord Riddle'

1st year Slyths investigate 3rd floor… and run screaming

Lily and Snape analyse Harry's dreams

Flamel

Harry goes to owlery and sees him post a letter to Penny

Flamel rants like Harry in fifth year: I'm gonna die, no one cares

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 7**

_-NoR-_

Harry wouldn't be going home for Christmas.

The thought was more than a little scary, more than a little daunting. He'd never celebrated Christmas with anyone but his closest family and now, by his own self-imposed exile, he would be alone in the Slytherin common room for the season of giving. It brought a chill to his spine, but it was better than seeing Ethan. He wasn't ready for that.

When Professor Snape handed around the list of those staying at Hogwarts, he had raised an eyebrow as Harry bit his lip and signed his name with a trembling hand. But the man didn't say anything. Just nodded in response to Harry's silent plea not to tell anyone. Then he moved on to Theodore, sitting next to Harry.

"You're staying here?" Harry could hear that Draco was shocked. But as he looked at him, Harry thought he caught a flash of annoyance flitter across his friend's face before it was wiped away with practiced ease. Harry chose not to dwell on it.

"I don't want to deal with all that family business. I don't mind staying here by myself."

The first years were silent. They would all be going home to presents and families and love, and were quite excited over the prospect. For the past week chatter in the common room had been louder than ever and classes had been close to uncontrollable. But in five days that noise would disappear almost completely.

"You should have told us, Harry. I could have taken you to France with my family!" Pansy said with a slight frown. "But everything's been finalized now."

"You could spend Christmas at my place, Harry." Millicent spoke up suddenly. "If you wanted to, that is."

Harry almost groaned. Millicent wasn't a close friend of his but he supposed she was nice enough… From a safe distance. She was a bit too eager, wanted to be Harry's friend a bit too much and made too many mountains out of pimples. As much as Harry would like to spend the holidays somewhere other than an empty dormitory, he wasn't that desperate.

"No, it's fine Millicent. Besides, I think it'll be really cool to stay at Hogwarts. I imagine the scenery will be great around this time of year."

At Christmas time, Godric's Hollow was more than great. It came alive.

The group was shocked out of silence when they heard a shrill squeal. They turned to see Daphne in the doorway, grinning like a lunatic.

"You'll never guess what I've just heard." She raced towards them, clutching a letter tightly to her chest. Harry leaned forwards, hopeful that Daphne's news would take his mind off his own glum thoughts, but she stopped short at their morose expressions.

"What's up with you lot?"

Harry fidgeted with the silver fringe of the cushion he was leaning against, but when it became clear that nobody was answering he opened his mouth.

"It's nothing much, Daphne. I'm just staying here for Christmas."

Around him, Harry could feel the others freeze up and couldn't help but wonder what it was he'd said. Daphne's eyes were wide.

Attempting to bring everyone back to reality, Harry asked Daphne what her news was. For a second she didn't respond, but closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Harry just stared at her, waiting.

Eventually she opened her eyes and looked straight at Harry.

"Oh, nothing… It's not important actually but I suppose I should tell you that you won't be alone. There's been a change of plans and I'm staying at Hogwarts too."

Tensions remained high for the rest of the evening, and not even as they slipped into bed did Harry feel that they had fully relaxed. Because even Harry had gathered that Daphne had heard something truly exciting would be happening when she went home. But she'd chosen not to go. She'd given it up.

Because Harry was her friend.

She was the only friend who was staying at Hogwarts that Christmas.

_-NoR-_

For the next five days Harry was hounded by both his friends and, surprisingly, Professor Snape. Draco and Pansy wanted Harry to be certain that there was really nothing they could do to get out of going home, although they really wanted nothing more than to stay with him and if he'd only told them earlier he could have gone with Pansy to Corsica or Draco to Luxembourg. It was starting to get on Harry's nerves, especially as he _knew_ it wasn't their fault and he didn't really mind spending Christmas with only Daphne. He could only guess what they were getting so worked up about – they were acting almost as if they thought Harry would forget about them while he was alone with Daphne, which was absurd on two counts: for one, they were Draco and Pansy. As if Harry could forget them. For another, they were Draco and Pansy. As if they would act so silly and worry about being forgotten.

Nevertheless, their constant reminders were becoming aggravating.

Professor Snape, on the other hand, wanted to talk to Harry about something. What that something was he wasn't quite certain, but he thought it would have something to do with his family, or more specifically his mother. Because when didn't it.

But it didn't really matter because Harry had no intention of speaking to him.

Instead, he spent his time with Daphne. They would hang out in the library, the common room, the lake or anywhere really, and talk about anything. Now that she had chosen to stay with Harry, he thought it best to make it up to her by being the best friend possible. And so he learnt about how her younger sister Astoria was a spoilt brat, with Daphne at the head of the spoilage committee. She told him that, secretly, she thought transfiguration was the most amazing subject ever and she truly enjoyed it although she would never admit it, and she even agreed with Harry that Megan Jones was 'a bit unpleasant' but as she'd grown up with her she could put up with her… 'quirks', as Daphne called them. Of course, Harry knew how much Daphne enjoyed Quidditch, but he had never learnt how much of a die-hard supporter she was for Puddlemere, although she did admit a certain fondness for the Magpies, which was entirely Draco's fault. In turn, Harry told her about himself. He had never been to any games, but his Dad supported the Falcons. He talked some about his family. Not much, but he spoke about his dad and Siri and Remi and Ava… Neither mentioned Lily or Ethan.

For that, Harry was grateful.

And so Harry and Daphne barely noticed as the rest of the castle packed up and left, so wrapped up in their own little world. But all too soon, inevitably, that bubble burst as Harry, filled with dread, crept down the hall to his weekly appointment in Professor Snape's office the next Friday evening.

The door before him was black, unsurprisingly. In fact it was more surprising that there was a door at all. Nevertheless the imposing black thing loomed over him, daring him to run away. On either side were flickering torches, casting ominous shadows between the cracks in the stone wall, sending shivers up Harry's spine.

With agonising speed, and a gulp, Harry raised his hand and knocked twice, wincing as his knuckles stung.

"Enter."

From experience, Harry knew that it was simply the pass code and the door would open automatically. Soundlessly, the door swept open to reveal his professor's office.

But Lily was not there.

"Your mother will not be coming tonight. Instead, she has asked that I speak to you about a matter of grave importance to your own well-being."

Snape's nasally voice sneered down at him.

"Sit down."

Immediately, Harry lowered himself onto the uncomfortably short wooden stool before the teacher's desk. For a minute, Snape said nothing, choosing to finish marking an essay instead. Harry swept his gaze around the office that he was now so familiar with. The jars full of eyeballs and cockroaches no longer scared him: the professor had proved time and time again a far greater threat than a dead insect in a jar.

"Mr Potter… Harry." He sneered. Harry looked up at his godfather, eyes wide and quite unsure what to think. But the man's eyes never left the paper in front of him.

"Your mother believes it necessary for me to talk to you about friends and morals."

The man scribbled a final sentence and cast aside his quill, letting it float back to its stand. Then with a quick wave of a wand, the parchment was rolled up tightly and banished to another location.

Severus Snape glared at Harry.

"I am here in my capacity as a godfather rather than a professor or head of Slytherin. You may say what you wish without fear of detention." He looked quite put-out at the thought and Harry immediately gathered that this had been all Lily's work, rather than Snape's.

Harry nodded, unsure of what to do.

"You called Justin Finch-Fletchley, among others, a Mudblood." Snape stated. It took Harry a second to realise he was waiting for a response, so he gave a quick dip of his head in a semi-nod. Snape continued.

"You did this because those you believe are your friends told you to."

Harry's eyes widened at the words, but still he said nothing. How could Snape believe that? What was he trying to imply? Harry didn't know, but already he didn't like the sound of it.

"There was a reason I told you not to sort Slytherin, boy." Harry flinched at the reminder of that horrible birthday present. "Lily had told me there was a possibility of you being a Slytherin. We both agreed that this would not be for the best."

Harry didn't know what to think. However he had expected the evening to pass, he had not expected this. He needed time to think, plan…

He wanted to run away, as fast as possible.

"Slytherins lie, boy."

Harry sucked in a breath. Snape stood up and moved around the desk. He grabbed Harry's chin. He snarled at Harry:

"Do you understand? We lie, we cheat, to get the money, fame and power we desire. They're not your friends. None of them are! They want the friendship of the Boy-Who-Lived; they're just better at covering it than other eleven year olds. They're not your friends, Mystery Boy. They're using you."

Harry could only stare in horror as Snape dropped his chin and stalked back to his chair. He held his breath, waiting for his godfather to explode once again, but nothing happened as the man sat down in his chair and stared unashamedly at Harry.

But Harry couldn't believe it. He would not believe it. Because it wasn't true. Daphne and Draco and Pansy… They were his best friends. They understood him and had proved it time and time again. Nothing Snape said would change that. They were better than any family Harry had ever known, and Daphne was best of all. She had given up her Christmas because she was his friend. And he wouldn't let Snape change that.

Harry calmly walked out the door, lightly closing it before tearing off down the hall, sprinting into the common room. He didn't stop until he was safe in bed.

_-NoR-_

"Daphne…"

"Yes, Harry?"

The two were alone in the common room. In fact, they'd had the common room to themselves for the majority of the holiday, as the only other Slytherins staying over Christmas were two seventh years, Donaldson and Pucey, and the fifth year Selwyn who were staying for their NEWTs and OWLs respectively, and thus spent their time in the library or various study circles with the other students in their years.

The silence had been a change. To fight it, they put the Weird Sisters on the loudspeaker and pretended they were instead listening to the chatter of their house.

"I need some… advice."

Daphne looked up from her book. It was charmed, Harry knew, to look like a text on the history of doxy-repellents, but what she was truly reading Harry had no idea. He did think it was a novel, and probably something she wouldn't want to be found reading, but she wouldn't tell him. If he had to guess what it was, it would be difficult to say whether it was a muggle book or a cheesy romance novel. Of course, it could be both.

"How can I help?"

Harry bit his lip, then reached into his book-bag for a shiny-papered booklet covered in bright colours and galleons.

"I don't know what I should get everyone for Christmas. I've never really given anyone gifts… I don't know what's appropriate. My dad sent me this catalogue, but I was wondering if you could help me, you know…"

"Choose?" She asked with a smile. Harry only nodded gratefully. "Give it here."

Harry handed the magazine over to his friend, and leaned back into the couch typically inhabited by the sixth years. He hadn't even thought about gifts, and hadn't even thought about sending a letter to his parents to explain that he wasn't coming home, when James had sent it to him. His dad had been so understanding, and mentioned that maybe Harry should think about sending some gifts to his friends. With a limit of thirty galleons, Harry could buy what he liked.

Harry had felt terrible after reading that letter.

"Who are you getting presents for?" Daphne broke his reverie.

"Well, Draco and Pansy of course," she nodded, "and you…"

Daphne gave a tinkering laugh, still flipping through the pages, occasionally stopping to take a look at some of the more interesting items.

"Oh, don't be silly, Harry. You don't need to get me anything."

"Daph-"

"Harry, you seriously don't. Just being your friend is enough." She smiled sweetly up at him from under her eyelashes, her hazel eyes wide. Harry immediately resolved to, without her knowledge, get something extra special for her. After all, she had decided to stay at Hogwarts and was now helping him choose presents. As his new best friend, she deserved the best he could give. Whatever that was.

"Okay, then. I should probably get something for Theodore too, but I don't know if he's getting me anything…"

"Just buy him some sweets then, they're the fallback."

"And Millicent will probably get me something…"

"But you want to distance yourself from her, so you probably should give anything to her."

Harry nodded. This was why Daphne was brilliant. She could attack things logically and systematically, and knew exactly what should be done.

"Put Blaise on the sweets list as well. I don't know him that well, but it's probably not a good idea to distance myself from my dorm mates…"

"See… you're learning!" Daphne replied, getting out some parchment and a quill to write down these names and their presents. "What about Crabbe and Goyle?"

There was a tough question. Harry didn't much like either and it wasn't guaranteed that they would notice whether or not Harry actually gave them a gift, however if they noticed that he hadn't it could potentially cause problems…

"Are you giving them something Daphne?"

Daphne looked up at him with a strange look in her eyes. Absently she mouthed '_FREE!_' as the Weird Sisters screamed it to finish the song, before answering.

"I've known them for years, Harry. Since I was a baby, really. My parents send them a basket of cookies each and I don't have to deal with it. Also it's a bit different with me. As I said, I've known them forever."

Harry weighed up the decision, before sighing, resigned.

"How about I send them a small bag of sugar quills each. They'll like it."

Daphne agreed, carefully quilling the words in beautiful calligraphy. She had told him just two days ago that her father believed very much that the hand-writing of any witch or wizard should be not only legible but 'pleasing to the eye.' Daphne had undergone many a lesson attempting to teach her calligraphy, however they had paid off and now she had the nicest handwriting of the first year bunch.

"And what about Tracey?" Daphne questioned.

Harry almost groaned. He liked Tracey, but she had the drawback of being close with Millicent. By giving Tracey a present, Millicent would be the only first year Slytherin he hadn't given a present to and Millicent would know this…

"I think I'll just give Millicent and Tracey a few chocolate frogs each." He said, resignedly.

But Daphne perked up.

"Ooh, yes. That's a good idea. Millicent _hates _chocolate frogs."

Immediately she wrote this down.

"So now we've only got to find presents for Pansy and Draco." She said cheerily. "Pansy loves trinkets and the like, actually I saw something she might like in here. It's a little statue of a blossoming tree. It's made of china, but it flowers hair ties with little flowered baubles on them. You can change the colour just by tapping it and…"

"Yeah, that sounds fantastic." Harry interrupted Daphne before she could talk his head off. "It sounds like something she'd really enjoy. And for Draco?"

Harry snatched back the catalogue, trying to find something. His friend's main interests were flying, quidditch and magic, none of which were practical as gifts. Draco couldn't stand the Weird Sisters, or any other music, preferred not to read and didn't like chess. What's more, his father seemed to be richer than the rest of them put together (or at least that's what Draco said) and could likely afford or already had anything Harry could buy him.

"That's one I don't know… my family generally just gets Lucius and Narcissa a nice wine from our vineyard and all us kids would get to go to the beach or the theatre or something. Sort of as the parents' group present to us. Of course our own parents would give us heaps of stuff, but… I don't even know what's happening this year, since I'm at school and Draco's in Luxembourg, Pansy's in Cardinia and Megan's in Hufflepuff…"

This, Harry knew was a lie. He knew because a while back he'd wanted to find out what Daphne would be missing out on by staying at Hogwarts. What she was so excited about when she came rushing into the common room that day when the list was passed around. So he'd waited until she was asleep on the couch one day and levitated the letter he knew she carried constantly with her from her pocket and read that she knew very well that their families didn't care about Megan's house, and that Pansy and Draco were coming back a day early, and that they were going to spend a day on the dragon reserve in Ecuador. Harry had heard of this place – it was advertised as the most beautiful and natural dragon habitat in the world.

Daphne was missing out on a chance to fly with dragons for him.

"I could always get him a mirror, I suppose. You know, the type that will listen to him as he goes on and on…"

Daphne burst into giggles.

"You could. Oh, I would pay to see his face if you sent him a mirror… But it's probably not the best idea… Hm… You could also get him a quill, I guess. A nice one… But he has lots of those…"

This gave Harry an idea.

"You know he hates writing, what about a dictating quill. You know, just for notes in class and assignments… But why doesn't he have one already?"

Daphne's eyes were alight at the idea.

"He's always wanted one, but Narcissa would never let him. But you could buy him one and it would be rude for him to refuse and not use it…"

She quickly wrote down the idea, and began to fill out the forms in the catalogue.

"Thanks so much for doing this Daphne… Hey, I can fill those out, don't you bother."

She smiled up at him.

"Seriously, Harry, it's no problem."

And then their favourite song came on, and everything ceased as they got up and began jumping up and down like lunatics from couch to couch to the beat of the Weird Sisters.

_-NoR-_

And then it was Christmas.

The trees were decorated, tinsel everywhere, the ghost choir were carolling and above all snow covered every inch of the grounds.

Waking up on Christmas morning, Harry found it hard to feel anything but happy.

_His strange dreams from the night before were not unusual._

Immediately, Harry grabbed his presents and scampered downstairs, still in his pyjamas, to wait for Daphne as they'd planned. He didn't have to wait long, as she was already down there, sucking a sugar quill.

"And what happened to, 'and make sure you wait to open the presents, Harry'?" Harry teased good-naturedly, doing a truly awful imitation of her voice. Daphne had the grace to look slightly guilty.

"Sweets don't count. Besides, you _were_ taking quite a while."

Harry laughed and flung himself down beside her.

"You were the one who wanted to celebrate Christmas together. Which reminds me: Merry Christmas, Daphne."

They shared soft smiles.

"The same to you, Harry…" There was a slight pause before childish eagerness, a rare thing in Daphne, surfaced. "Well, let's start."

There was a pause before the race began. They raced to tear open as many presents as possible, shouting out what they'd been given from whom before ripping open the next without a second glance. The race was entirely unfair to both sides because Daphne knew more people and therefore had more presents to open, but she had also started before Harry… And besides, neither knew what they were competing for or what it was about, but it was better that way. There was no winner.

Christmas with Daphne was a different experience completely to Christmas at home. For one thing, Daphne was the only other person there. There were no adults to laugh at them, no adults to tell them to slow down, no adults to distract them with their own boring presents… No annoying aunts whom Harry would have to thank for a gift he couldn't stand. Ethan wasn't there to compare his presents to Harry's. He wasn't there for Harry to be jealous of.

It was a welcome change.

Overall it was a good haul. There were some let downs, for example Aunt Bathilda must have gotten it into her head that he actually _liked _history from all the questions he had asked her and therefore sent thousand paged books on the subject, however after leafing through them they seemed more age-appropriate than the textbook, while his treatment of Neville must have been discovered by Mrs. Longbottom because from her he only received a pair of socks, however there were also some marvellous presents. The Lovegoods had sent him a compendium of easy-to-learn spells of revenge and protection, and Sirius hadn't had time to get him a present so had just plain sent him five hundred galleons. Normally books and money weren't his favourite presents, but he could tell the Lovegood's book would be _extremely_ interesting and dead useful and, well, five hundred galleons was five hundred galleons no matter how you looked at it. Remus hadn't given Harry a present so much as he'd given a huge one to the family. He had commissioned a portrait, with the artist under too many privacy spells to count, of the whole family. Harry had only seen a photo of it, but it now hung in the main hall of the house and from what Harry could tell it looked absolutely stunning. The only problem Harry had with it was that he had been drawn standing a little too close to Ethan for his liking, but what could you do?

He looked forward to seeing the picture when he returned home for the summer.

From Pansy Harry had been delighted to receive a magical trunk specially made in France. It was high-quality, luxurious, and had very good security. It must have cost her a small fortune, but Harry knew he would have to thank her profusely once she returned. It made his little gift seem trivial – especially as he _knew _Pansy had more than enough hair ties. She made a point of wearing a different one every day, each more ostentatious than the last.

Draco, on the other hand, had bought Harry a rock, of all things. Draco was quick to point out in his letter that it wasn't just any rock, but a stone which, when he held it, would keep him calm and relaxed. Of course, the charm wasn't incredibly powerful and any significant burst of emotion would override it, but when he felt stressed, for example before exams, Draco said it would calm him down and stop him from worrying too much about the upcoming tests. Draco also made sure to mention that his father used one, so he knew it wasn't a cheep knockoff from the Luxembourgian equivalent of Knockturn Alley.

Then there were the little tokens from all Harry's other friends: Theo had sent him a planner with a hilariously ridiculous and unnecessary spell for each day, while Crabbe and Goyle had sent him nothing at all – not that that was surprising. Or perhaps they'd been behind the half-eaten packets of Bertie Bott's, which Harry had immediately chucked away. Nobody wanted food _those _trolls had touched.

Blaise, obviously feeling silly, had sent him a beanie that never got lost, instead always finding its way back to his trunk. In the card he'd added 'too bad this charm doesn't work for wands!' and Harry had shook his head and sighed. Tracey had sent a snitch, which Harry immediately set loose on the common room, planning to find it later, and Millicent had bought him two passes for a league quidditch match… not that his parents would let him go. He'd have to give the tickets away, probably to Siri or someone. Siri would be delighted to have an excuse to attend a game.

And then, there were the gifts from his parents. The first thing he unwrapped was a pocket wireless. Which meant no more silent Sunday afternoons – he could play music and the others would never hear! Then there had been the less enjoyable presents of books and clothes, which, while utterly fantastic, were also a little boring. The only interesting part was the fact that they were obviously from Fine Alley, and obviously of good quality. He knew, at least, that his father's addition would be interesting: a scroll full of hidden passages in Hogwarts was never unwelcome. Harry couldn't wait to try a few.

All his presents unwrapped, Harry was quite pleased, to say the least.

"Harry…"

Looking up, Daphne was clutching a piece of paper, the envelope torn and discarded on the floor. Her eyes were round.

"What you got there, Daphne?" Harry asked with a grin.

"I told you that you didn't have to give me anything…"

How could I not? – The silent reply.

"How did you even…"

"Please. These people will do anything for the 'famous Potters'…"

Daphne stared at him in a mixture of awe and incredulity.

"I have a broom named after me!"

Well, not yet, technically. The Firebolt DG wasn't set to be released until next year at the earliest, but Harry wasn't about to ruin his friend's moment.

"Yep – and it's predicted to be the best one yet. They're saying international level!"

Whatever Daphne had been expecting Harry to give her, it hadn't been this, and so she proceeded to envelope Harry in a crushing hug.

"Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much: this is the best present ever."

Harry nodded, relieved to be able to breathe as Daphne let him go. But he wasn't surprised at Daphne's action – he rather felt the same. It wasn't everyday you heard the 'best broom of the century' would bear your name, or rather, initials. Harry knew his next letter to his parents would be full of praise and gratitude.

When Harry had sent a letter to James a week ago, asking for a present for Daphne, he had never expected this. When he'd seen the note in the card his parents had sent him he'd barely kept from crying out in shock.

"I've got something for you, too, Harry."

Daphne held something behind her back, nervously gazing at him, shifting unconsciously on her legs into a more comfortable sitting position.

"Now, you _really_ didn't have to get me anything, Daphne. You helped me choose presents for everyone…"

Daphne now mirrored the look he had given her when told the same.

How could I not?

"It's not much, really. Kind of silly after this." As she said this she shoved a soft package into his hands in a jerky motion, wincing slightly. Harry smiled encouragingly at her, then turned his gaze to the hastily-wrapped-in-purple-with-orange-ribbon package.

"It was all I had left, the purple and orange, I mean."

Harry could have sworn that she stuttered as she said it, which almost made him jump. He'd never seen Daphne nervous before. He didn't know what to make of it.

Daphne Greengrass didn't get nervous.

Tearing it open, Harry found a mirror, of all things.

"It's not just a mirror: it can store a memory. You just tap it while thinking of the memory and it'll implant… Later you can go back and watch it again, or show others. It's not much, but…"

There wasn't much Harry could do but smile at her.

But that was all he needed to do.

_-NoR-_

After presents, they showered and got dressed before they headed down to breakfast, barely noticing the upper years as they stumbled out of their dormitories. Both Harry and Daphne were speaking as quickly as they could, as loud as they could, giddy on the Christmas fever as they were.

They were barely seated before Frankenstein came swooping in, landing elegantly on Harry's shoulder.

"Hello, my lady, what have you got for me today?" Harry addressed Sirius' speckled owl with respect, casually feeding her some bacon from his plate. After she had nibbled delicately at the offered food, she held out her leg, allowing Harry to claim his post. After this delivery she fluttered off to Daphne, who was tempting the lady with more greasy pig. Unaware of this act of betrayal, Harry opened the letter, noting the familiar scrawl of a dictation quill on the address.

Inside was the first bit of correspondence Harry had ever received from his sister.

_Harry I miss you. Why no you come home? Ethan come home._

_I miss my Harry!_

_Do you not love me anymore?_

_Please come back._

_I love you, Harry._

The letter wasn't signed, but nobody else would send Harry a letter like this. He could almost hear the tiny reproachful tone she would be using, bad grammar and all. It was truly amazing that the dictation quills managed to write 'Hawwy' as Harry and pick up on exclamation marks, but failed to correct the three-year-old's grammar.

But it wasn't this that made Harry feel like he was about to throw up.

"Harry, are you alright?"

The Lovely Lady Frankenstein had flown off long ago, leaving Daphne to stare concernedly at Harry, who was almost shaking.

"'M fine." Harry mumbled.

Over the past few months, Harry had managed to drag himself out of the same emotional hole Ava was now stuck in.

"She thinks it's her fault that I'm not home this Christmas." Harry felt rotten. Rotten to the core. "And it's not. It's all bloody Ethan's fault. He's tearing it all apart!"

But then Daphne was pressing a small, round object into his hand. It was smooth and cool, nice to touch. Distracted, he moved the thing, stone, between his hands, turning it over and marvelling at the feeling. Looking down, he saw it was the stone Draco had given him.

"You looked like you needed something to cool you down." Daphne told him, shrugging.

"Thanks, Daphne…" The black shiny stone, Harry noted, was more a greyish colour in the bright light. "Yeah, I did need that."

But being calm didn't solve the problem entirely. He still needed to find a way to tell Ava that she was one of his favourite people in the entire world and that he loved her very much indeed, and…

Harry needed to do something about Ethan.

Because, he admitted, flipping the stone around in his hands again, it wasn't much fun to be fighting with your brother and best friend.

"I get jealous of Ethan sometimes."

Daphne looked quite shocked at Harry's words, but she wasn't stupid enough to say anything, just nodded her head and urged him to continue. Which was good because Harry wasn't sure he'd have been able to continue if she had.

"It's just… I told you about how I used to have nightmares, but I didn't say… It was really bad. Horrifying, really. I barely get them now, but I just remember that Ethan would never have nightmares. Ever. And I would, and I hated him for it. And then…"

Daphne was staring at him with enough pity to make Harry's stomach twist more, lurch again… But now that he'd started he couldn't stop talking.

"It was Ethan who, you know, it was off Ethan's head that the curse rebounded. And suddenly all the media and attention was on him…"

"You were jealous."

It was not a question.

"I'm unbelievably jealous."

And Daphne looped her arm around his shoulder, and they sat still for a second.

A part of Harry knew that the only reason he was saying this was that the stone was coaxing him to do it. Without the lump of minerals, he would never have thought to confess, but right now Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't need to worry about how he felt, because logically he knew that this retelling was therapeutic and would in the long run be helpful.

Eventually.

As the students who hadn't gotten up ridiculously early made their way into the Great Hall (two Ravenclaw fourth years, eight Hufflepuffs of various years, one Gryffindor so far…) Harry realised that the sun had risen.

"You should talk to Ethan, Harry."

Harry jumped in shock, scrambling away from the girl who was looking thoughtfully at him, as if trying to dissect him. She couldn't be serious – tell Ethan what he'd just told her?

The girl was mad.

"You're brothers, Harry, you can't get away from that. You've got to face him at one point or another. And you know he's not at all the person we say he is in the common room. Just… give him a chance."

"But what about the Mug- Mud-"

Orange light splayed over Daphne's face.

"Who cares about them? Just say you didn't mean it. He'll believe you."

Harry knew the question was all over his face: Why, why, why?

Daphne reached up to pay the Daily Prophet owl as it soared down and landed on her shoulder, then began to unroll the newspaper.

"Because he wants to believe you. Harry, he wants to have his brother back as much as you do."

As Harry first heard the words he was inclined to scoff, but this proved impossible as Daphne interrupted him with a gasp. Worried, he leaned over to see what had her so shocked, and read the headline:

**Nicolas Flamel Found Dead in Home: Suicide or Murder?**

_-NoR-_

Harry was in the owlery again.

Daphne was writing letters to various acquaintances and had asked for a bit of quiet time. After getting bored of the dingy little library and Aunt Bathilda's history books, he'd come here.

It was a beautiful place. From here he could see the forest, the lake, and even, if he squinted, Hogsmede. And although the owls left a mess, a bubblehead charm kept out the stink. And the birds were a silent company, supporting him.

It was a beautiful place to end the holidays.

The next day, everyone would be returning and lessons would resume. He would thank Draco and Pansy for their wonderful presents, and give an awkward thanks to all the others who'd given him gifts. Even Millicent.

And Ethan would be back.

Harry didn't know what to do. Over the past few days he'd thought a lot about his brother. Daphne's words had hit home hard. She hadn't said anything more on the subject, for which he was grateful, but those words she'd said replayed over and over in his head.

Did Ethan really miss him?

Harry remembered the time Ethan had tried to apologise to him – said he'd forgiven him. Harry had thought him a liar. He had rejected him.

_Maybe Ethan felt as rejected as Harry did._

Because, now thinking back on it, hadn't it all been stupid? Neither James nor Lily favoured one son over the other, Harry knew it in his heart. And really, Ethan didn't believe himself superior to Harry or some silly thing like that.

They were brothers, twins, equals.

And Harry had known that all along, but had been too caught up in his own insecurities to realise it.

No matter how much Harry dreaded having to admit defeat to his brother, he truly couldn't wait to have his brother back.

_And Ethan would forgive him, because Ethan was a forgiving sort. He wouldn't care what Harry had done, as long as Harry was with him._

And Harry could live with that.

Done with the owlery, Harry began to make his way down, when he noticed a certain bird flying towards the castle. He wasn't sure at first, but as the messenger flew closer he knew:

The snowy white owl entering the owlery was Nicholas Flamel's.

Harry let out a small gasp as the beautiful thing made its way towards him, landing on his shoulder.

"What are you doing here, girl?" Harry whispered to her, reaching up to stroke her. In answer to his question, she stuck out her leg. Harry quickly undid the bindings and opened the short note.

_To Mr Harry Potter._

_I believe an apology is in order for my outburst in the owlery. I was acting erratically in the face of my oncoming death, and had not realised how truly terrified I was. As I will now soon be dead, please allow me to express my regret for my puerile behaviour and please will you accept my owl as compensation for the action._

_The owl is nameless, as I did not wish for the thing to become too attached to a master who would soon die, however I believe you will find her to have a lovely temperament, and a smarter bird you will never find._

_Sincerely,_

_Nicolas Flamel._

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

**AN: **So, that's that. What did you think of Daphne's character? I'm a bit uncertain… Next chapter, an interesting person comes to Hogwarts…

On that note, I have exams coming up, so the next chapter won't be up for another two weeks… But after that, there's no school and I'll be attempting to get my updates down to one per week.

Also, two chapters of year one to go! Should I put year two in a second story, or keep going in this one?


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: Nightmares of Reality**

**Author: **Claire (.morbidity)

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Family/Tragedy

**Pairings: **_Probably_ no pairings. I think. A part from the obvious ones – e.g. between married couples. But a** Pairing Warning: **none of the relationships will be nice. They'll probably all come crashing down. The main ones that I've figured out are LE/JP and LE/SS.

In case you were wondering, no: there will not be a Harry/Lily pairing.

**Warnings: **Probably eventual murder, insanity (not the happy kind so prevalent in fanfics: the scary, dark, serious talk with your psychiatrist kind), death, torture, character death, nastiness in general, in this chapter specifically there's… not much. Lily's weird, but that's nothing new. Naturally, there are spoilers.

Also, I feel I should warn you that the rating is T right now because I think the story will get darker. Right now I'd estimate as a K+, although correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that by the end it will be M. For the eventual insanity, torture and character death.

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to JKR. Mostly. There's also a vague reference to Star Wars in this chapter.

**Extended Summary: **The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.

**Notes: **Ugh! My story has run away with me again! I was ready to completely gloss over the knew MSIE teacher, but in came the professor, ready with lesson plans and assignments, strapping me down and demanding that I listen! What's more, I found it interesting… And then I discovered that I'd accidentally given that professor a bigger role than I'd planned… all in all, I hope you like her (ooh! Spoiler!) because she's gonna be hanging around. Probably. Depends how the next chapter turns out…

Also, SO sorry about the wait. I'm never predicting how long it will take for me to get a chapter out again. Having said that, the next chapter will be out in two to three days because I've already written it

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 8**

"Ethan! Where were you? I searched _everywhere _on the platform…"

Ethan looked up from his Quibbler article on Fudge's latest failed goblin-eating plot (masterminding another break-in to Gringotts) to see one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, standing with her trunk in the compartment door, hair flying everywhere. It was good to see her again – she, at least, seemed happy to see him.

"Sorry, Hermione, Mum insisted that I get on early."

"Ah. She _is _rather paranoid, isn't she? Well, how was your Christmas?"

Christmas… The time of joy and family. Ethan wasn't sure he even _could _answer Hermione's question – too loaded, too connected, too _depressing_. It was much safer to switch topics and drive the conversation into calmer waters. Namely, Hermione's Christmas.

"Fine. How was yours?"

The girl practically glowed at the question and began to rattle off, word for word, every conversation she'd had with her parents, every person she'd met, every museum she'd visited, every book she'd read, practically every thought she'd had…

Ethan was almost beginning to regret asking her when Dean stumbled in and changed the subject to his own Christmas – he was especially grateful for Ethan's gift of magical canvases, and the two began to talk about their favourite subject, art, with Hermione occasionally adding anecdotes from various books she'd read and exhibitions she'd seen.

While Ethan had initially chosen to attempt being Dean and Hermione's friend for the most part to spite Harry, he had been particularly pleased to find that Dean was also a very good drawer. With their shared interest, they had quickly become best friends. Hermione, knowing everything about everything, was able to keep up with their discussions, but also managed to keep them from failing their classes, drawing their little group together. They were both very good friends, Ethan had found.

But they weren't enough.

"What's up, Ethan? You're acting real quiet." Dean's voice had a low quality to it; so profound and sure that Ethan knew he wouldn't drop the subject like Hermione had. Dean was very observant, and could notice the tiniest details.

"Don't worry, it's nothing. Just a thought."

"What is it, Ethan?" Hermione asked, caring eyes looking at him in concern.

"Christmas just wasn't that great, that's all. It's nothing to be worried about."

Dean and Hermione shared a look that Ethan pretended he hadn't caught. So the holiday hadn't been amazing – big deal. He wasn't a baby anymore; he could cope when things weren't that great. His parents hadn't fought _(he wouldn't think about the first night, when he had woken up and gone to get a glass of water and he had walked in on them screaming bloody murder and-)_. It just hadn't felt the same to have a Christmas without his twin.

"You know you can tell us anything, Ethan." Hermione said carefully. "You've never really said anything, but there have been clues…"

She glanced again at Dean and their eyes met in worry, seeming to converse in a language Ethan wasn't familiar with.

"Maybe we should just speak to Professor McGonagall…"

Ethan didn't understand what they meant – why would they be going to their Head of House? Unless, of course-

"Is everything… _alright_… at home, Ethan?" Hermione again questioned, gnawing her lip.

"Of course, Hermione." He responded, after a pause. "Why do you ask?"

The compartment seemed to hold its breath for a lifetime, tension rising as the subject walked by, teetering on entering…

"Never mind, Ethan." Dean said at last.

Ethan felt the guilt at lying (well, not really, but close enough) creep up his spine. He played with his robes, wondering if he should say anything at all. But these were his friends – he owed them something.

"It just wasn't the same without Harry."

Dean frowned a bit, but Hermione let out a gasp as she realised:

"You miss him, don't you."

Dean's eyes widened in silent understanding, but Ethan turned away – whether in shame or sadness he wasn't quite sure.

"I didn't want to, but…"

"He's your brother." Dean stated, nodding. _No matter how much of a jerk he is. _Dean himself didn't say it, but his eyes did.

But Ethan knew this was wrong. Because he knew his brother, and Harry wasn't so horrible. And coming to Hogwarts had messed him up; made him change into something Ethan wasn't quite sure he liked. But Harry – the real Harry – was there somewhere, hiding under all the Slytherin sneers…

Ethan just wasn't sure he wanted to stick around to wait for him to appear.

'_If he was ever real.' _A snide voice in the corner of his mind said. _'What if it was all a fake? What if he was lie, waiting for the right time to emerge and hurt you?'_

But he pushed the thought away, leaving it to fester where he didn't have to think about it.

They didn't say much else for the rest of the trip. Eventually they went to find the other Gryffindor first years, and started a game of exploding snap, though Ethan's mind was never much focused on the game, no matter how hard he tried.

As they disembarked, following the older students into horseless carriages, Ethan resolved that he would try to forget about his twin this term.

He wouldn't let himself have a Christmas like that again.

_-NoR-_

Delilah Evans was tired of work.

Work, work, work. It was all she ever did.

No parties, no fun…

Just staying up late, slaving away at endless nothingness.

She barely saw her boyfriend, Sparrow, these days and he seemed to be raising Patricia more than she. And Patricia was _her_ daughter, not his.

Twenty-one was supposed to be a lot more enjoyable.

But no, she was stuck at work while Sparrow sat around all day doing, quite literally, _nothing_. The other day she'd asked him what he did and his eloquent response had been, "Uh… I take care of the toddler, read the paper, sometimes… Why'd you ask, Lils?"

And there it was again. That nickname. Why he insisted on calling her that, Delilah had no clue. 'Lils' just sounded so childish, lacking the sophistication and maturity of 'Delilah'.

Staring at the report in front of her, the words of which she just wasn't absorbing, Delilah took the time to make the obligatory speculations of whether this was truly all life had to offer.

But no, this was enough. She wouldn't sit in an office reading report after report, making test after test, doing nothing…

She was going out. She would go _dancing_. She would get _drunk_. She needed this. There was no time to get Sparrow and no babysitter she would trust Patricia with, especially as she knew all their friends were too busy at the moment to spare a moment for her baby. So tonight she'd go to some trashy nightclub in London – somewhere twenty-one year-olds like herself were common. And by Merlin would she have a good time.

Hastily she conjured a small mirror, pulled out some makeup and applied it hurriedly, although she made sure to charm her face so any imperfections were smoothed away. She transfigured her boots into heels, and her robes into a short black dress to match. Finally she curled her hair and dyed it black with a flick of her wand, and took the time to admire her Muggle-manicured nails that _really_ looked so nice, even if they were lacking that sparkle of magic.

Delilah looked stunning. She knew it sure as day. But just to make sure, she lengthened the mirror in front of her so she could see her whole body and played around with the height of her heels and length of her dress for a minute. Finally ready to leave that forsaken building, she flicked the papers aside, letting the magic sort them properly, and made her way out the office door, heels clicking as she went.

Making her way along the Department of Mysteries Corridor, co-workers stopped what they were doing to watch her pass. She paid them no mind, clicking along, even as they called out for her: "Unspeakable Evans!", "Miss!". She was going out tonight and she'd like to see those brainless buffoons try to stop her.

"Miss!" Delilah's young message-boy ran towards her, seemingly appearing from thin air, as she reached for the floo powder. "There's an urgent message for you from the Director. He says-"

But what the Director had to say, she would not know until morning – or possibly the next evening, depending how much sleep she needed. For Delilah was already stepping into the green flames and on her way to the Leaky Cauldron, where London awaited her.

Sparrow would never know – and it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. It was simply impossible for them both to have fun, and she needed to breathe tonight. But he probably wouldn't like it if he discovered she'd gone out without him…

But he was her boyfriend, not her keeper.

And if he did find out, like he had last month, and if he was angry, like he was last month…

That's what memory charms were for.

_-NoR-_

The night everyone returned from the holidays, it snowed again.

Students huddled together, teeth chattering while they expressed their delight at seeing their friends again. Although it was cold, smiles abounded.

In the coldest corner of the castle, Harry greeted his Slytherins with joy.

"Draco, Pansy! Feels like years. How are you?"

The group were sitting around their table in the common room. Harry and Daphne had been talking quietly as they waited for the others to arrive, and though Harry was in his normal seat, the seat next to him was usually taken by Draco. When the other first years had arrived in the common room Harry had noticed Draco's surprise that Daphne had taken his position, but he'd soon got over it and come to sit on the couch beside him. The others had quickly adjusted their seating arrangement to fit.

"Fine. The holiday was marvellous – Luxembourg is truly spectacular at this time of year. Did you know my father and I…"

Once Draco began to speak, there was next to nothing that could stop him. The group listened in good humour, Pansy occasionally butting in with anecdotes from her own trip, but for the most part they listened to Draco yabber on about anything and everything – which unsurprisingly revolved around Mr. Malfoy.

"_Will he ever change?_" Harry muttered to Daphne, who stifled a giggle.

"_He hasn't yet._"

Talk continued about the holidays, conversation eventually drifting to presents. Harry made sure to thank everyone, even Millicent, for their presents. Talk of gifts naturally led to the trip to the dragon preserve Draco, Pansy, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle had taken.

"It was amazing." Draco enthused, stars in his eyes. "Those creatures… We saw one Peruvian Vipertooth that my father says was almost two hundred years old! And they'd just imported a Norwegian Ridgeback and her nest from Norway. It's too bad we couldn't see them hatch, but my father says they're an endangered species and that's why they had to move them – father says the habitat in Ecuador has the best facilities and wizards to take care of them."

When Draco had exhausted the topic, Harry felt it was his job as a friend to give the boy's voice a break, and spoke up.

"Guess what I got for Christmas?"

Everyone turned to Harry, eyes expectant. He only paused for a little bit before continuing.

"Flamel gave me his owl."

There were gasps, Harry was pleased to note. Quite a few of them looked impressed. So did the second year, Urquhart or something, who was passing by on his way to his year group's table.

"Is it cursed? He didn't really like you – or anyone, really." Pansy said.

Harry only shook his head, not knowing how or even if he could explain his meeting with the deceased professor. Instead, he described the snowy white bird to the group, not mentioning that Flamel _had _cared for some things – the owl being one of them.

"She's a snowy owl, and I've named her Hedwig, after Hedwig the Haughty from History of Magic – you know, the Queen of Prussia in the fourteen hundreds who always wore white and killed anyone who 'disrespected' her. I've only known her a few days now, and she's _very _clever. Right now she's sending a letter to my parents, but I think she'll be here tomorrow morning – you'll see her then."

"And you'll be amazed when you see her." Daphne cut in. "Words can't do her justice. _Harry_'s not doing her justice. Hedwig is one of the smartest owls I've ever seen – and she's beautiful to boot."

It was then that Harry noticed the way Draco was gazing at Daphne. Harry had glanced his way because he'd suddenly realised that his friend hadn't said a word for the past minute or saw. His eyes were calculating, with a shrewdness Harry had never before seen on Draco. But in the next second, as Draco caught him staring, the look was gone. He must have imagined it.

Eventually, the house trickled out of the common room to dinner. The first years gradually made their way to the great hall, chatting as they went, although Draco was much more subdued, Harry noticed.

Excitement rose in Harry's chest at the thought of catching a glimpse of his brother. But he would wait until after dinner, when they could go somewhere more private, to apologise. He and Daphne had already worked out what he was going to say, the most important part being that he would say sorry, but wait until Ethan said sorry himself to forgive him. After all, that's what he had hated about Ethan's original apology: the assumption that there was something to forgive.

He just hoped it would work. But then again, why wouldn't it?

At dinner, the Headmaster made the announcement of the new Magical Society teacher. He made a short speech about how Flamel was a great (jerk of a) man and a fantastic (bully of a) teacher who they all had (not) loved. He told how it was important to accept the passing away of the people around you, and to never forget them, but not forget life either. Harry glanced around at his Slytherins and noted with amusement that they also shared his contempt for the man's speech.

Finally, it was announced that Perenelle Flamel, Flamel's wife, was to be their new professor.

Most of the hall was shocked – if not at the fact that Flamel had a wife, then at the woman who entered the room. She didn't have Flamel's unnatural half ancient and half childish looks, rather she looked to be in her late twenties, or possibly younger as Harry wasn't particularly good at judging ages. Her dark hair was cropped short like a boy's and she wore a modern mix of magical and muggle styles. All in all, nobody had ever seen a professor quite like her.

"Hello Albus, sorry I'm late." She took her place at the high table, taking a quick glance at her dumbfounded soon-to-be pupils. "Hello all, I'm Professor Flamel, although if you would prefer to call me simply 'Professor Perenelle' to avoid confusion with my late husband, you would be more than welcome. I look forward to a fantastic term teaching all you youngsters, and it would be my deepest desire to return next year and the year after to this wondrous school. Thank you." She flashed a winning smile.

There was a tumultuous applause. Maybe it was just the tremendous differences between her and her husband, or perhaps it was the lack of patronizing mannerisms that made her so popular. Perhaps it was the fact that she looked so much _nicer _than any of the other teachers, or the way she sarcastically drawled '_youngsters_'.

Whatever it was, they all loved her immediately.

As dinner started, the chatter began. Naturally, the majority of it focused on 'Professor Perenelle'.

"Well, if this is what happens when you lose lousy professors, I vote we kill Umbridge." Blaise began the conversation, looking positively thrilled that Professor Flamel would soon be teaching them. His eyes had yet to leave the high table.

"If you can do it without getting caught, you're welcome to it." Harry grumbled, his eyes also on the high table, but his not so fixated. There was something different about the staff table…

"Harry?" Daphne muttered in his ear, leaning past him to reach the mustard so that only he heard her.

Harry turned from the staff table to give her a little shake of his head, his eyes saying that he'd tell her later.

The meal was a boisterous affair, and when it finally wound down all the first years were exhausted. As people began to stand up and drift away, Harry tried to catch Ethan's eye, and at one point he thought he had, but his twin turned away, disappearing into a sea of red. Dejected, Harry returned to the Slytherin Common Room, resolving to try tomorrow. He determinedly ignored Daphne's softly reprimanding gaze.

As they made their way into their dormitories and beds, Harry thought back to the staff table and what had looked so odd…

But Professor Quirrell's fear of Professor Perenelle was no concern of his.

_-NoR-_

Unfortunately, Ethan seemed to be avoiding Harry.

The first morning, at breakfast, Harry hadn't seen his brother enter or leave, and he had seen neither hide nor hair of him at lunch. At dinner he had caught a glimpse, but again a group of Gryffindors had stepped in his way before he could speak to him.

This had occurred for the second day in a row when Harry had decided to instead write a letter requesting a meeting – and by Merlin did that make him feel a fool; trying to arrange a meeting with his own brother – but it didn't matter in the end because he hadn't responded, hadn't turned up… The next morning, Hedwig had carried him a new envelope, but filled with ashes. Potions was on Friday so he hadn't yet had a chance to corner him.

Thankfully, this was the only thing Harry _wasn't _enjoying. The Slytherin Quidditch team was doing well, and they were leading the house cup. His classes were going well; he was one of the most powerful spell casters in the first year Slytherins and it seemed that most of the teachers had decided to take the 'ease them back into the routine' method, rather than the McGonagall method of assigning twelve inches on the first day.

However, it was the new class that truly fascinated Harry.

His first class with Professor Perenelle was a great success, although the witch barely made it into the classroom on time, sliding inside as the bell rang. As she noticed that her class was already seated she sprinted to the front of the room, skidding to a halt before she could crash into her desk as the bell stopped ringing. Today she wore teaching robes, although they were hardly the traditional cut, over sneakers and jeans.

"Well… What have we got… first year Slytherin and Hufflepuff? Let's see…"

There were no rules, no lectures, no calling the role. Instead, she got straight into work.

"So… This semester… Let's have a little chat about _magic_."

At her words, the entire class seemed to sit up a little straighter, even leaning forward slightly in their seats to hear what she would say next. You could hear a pin drop.

"Today, I'm going to ask you a question. You have the entire period to reach a conclusion, however you won't be reading any books. I don't want you taking shortcuts, but you're welcome to recall any material you have already studied. I'll help you along where I can, but mostly I want you lot to figure it out yourselves… I suggest you work together on this one."

She flicked her wand at the board, and the words appeared:

'_What is magic?'_

They sat still, pondering the question. Harry had, of course, thought about it before, but he'd never really come to an answer…

And now they needed to reach one.

"Well?" Professor Perenelle said lightly. "Go on, don't just sit there. _Begin_."

The magic word was spoken and the class leapt into action.

"Well, it's magic, isn't it?"

"My father says it's power."

"An energy, I guess? Like the force?"

The consensus seemed to be that nobody was quite sure what it was.

"_This is going nowhere_." Harry muttered to Daphne, who nodded in agreement, a thoughtful look on her face.

"_There should be an order to this._" She hissed back. "_Because right now we're talking over the top of each other, and so loudly that we can't hear ourselves think. Do something."_

"_Do what?_" Harry replied, but Daphne had already shot sparks off into the air and danced away, leaving Harry to be stared at.

"Right." He coughed slightly, shifting nervously at their gazes. He didn't like the staring one bit. It made him flashback to that time in Diagon Alley… Entering the Great Hall, a thousand people watching him…

_Millions of eyes, following his every move…_

_Why couldn't the eyes just go away?_

But no, Harry was better than this. He was stronger.

He was not afraid.

"So, we get that none of us know the answer. Instead, let's ask some other questions, to help us figure it out, like…" Harry tried to think of something to ask. He was making this up on the fly, and had no clue where it was going, but the important thing now was to _keep speaking_ and not be defeated by anxiety. "Where does magic come from, and why do we have it, not Muggles?"

"Does magic have a limit? Like, can we run out of it?" Finch-Fletchley spoke up. Harry prepared a sneer, planning on cutting the ignorant Muggleborn down, but to his surprise Daphne spoke up.

"How about you find out, Finchly? Cast spells until you pass out." Her words weren't spoken with malice; rather she seemed interested as well. And when Harry thought on it, he was also intrigued. But it begged the question – why was Daphne being kind to a Muggleborn?

But as Harry's eyes brushed over Professor Perenelle, he realised that she could hardly insult him in a classroom.

_For someone whose mother was a Muggleborn, he shouldn't be so quick to insult them, especially when the purebloods weren't doing it._

"I don't know about collapsing in class…" The Muggleborn, however, didn't look too pleased with the suggestion, which Harry could understand. However, now that he thought about it, he really did want to know whether his magic could disappear some day… It did sound rather important after all.

_But if this class discussion is going to go anywhere at all, it would be better if I didn't go around ordering Hufflepuffs to their deaths. For one thing, they probably wouldn't do it and for another the rest of them would attack – even Jones._

Thankfully, the solution was simple.

"Goyle wouldn't mind doing it, would you?"

The boy shook his head dumbly, as if slightly surprised that his name had been called – or perhaps just dumbfounded that he had recognised it as his name. Nevertheless he agreed and it was only after repeating the instructions three times that he began to change Wayne Hopkins' matchstick into a needle and back. Preferably they would have used a more difficult transfiguration, but this was the only spell Goyle could manage reliably.

The class watched in anticipation as the boy changed it back and forth and back and forth… After about five minutes of flat-out casting, his cheeks began to flush and his breaths began to deepen. In another three minutes, his heartbeat could be heard. Just after ten minutes, he keeled over.

"Goyle!" Even the Hufflepuffs seemed concerned for the boy, reaching out towards him, but a voice stopped him.

"Don't mind him, class, I simply put him to sleep."

It was Professor Perenelle speaking.

As Goyle let out a snore, everyone seemed to relax, however Susan Bones asked her why, looking quite horrified that someone had done such a thing.

"He was using too much energy. If I hadn't stopped him then, he would have passed out and then would be in a much more worrisome position. You see, class," She stood up from her desk, to stalk around them, cluttered as they were around the central desks, "Magic does indeed have it's limits, but only those you impose upon yourself. For example, if I generally barely use my magic, but then one day decide to cast heavy spells in rapid succession, I will soon find myself incredibly tired, and should I have to move anytime soon I will find it rather difficult.

"You see, magic uses the energy you get from the food you eat to do the spells and potions and divination and basically any other magical practice you happen to be attempting. To become a good wizard, one must practice every day, when possible. The more often you use magic, the easier it will be to pick up new spells, and the easier it will be to cast powerful magics. There's no 'magical limit', only a physical one.

"Yet this brings us to a new branch of magic altogether, one developed only in the early seventeen hundreds, spurred by the creation of the Statute of Secrecy, separating Wizards from Muggles once and for all. I am talking, of course, about the Dark Arts."

Harry felt himself straighten at the words, something otherworldly pulsing through the air, round and round, rising higher and higher in their ears. Around him, slouched students were suddenly eager, even the Hufflepuffs were captivated. Every one of them was caught in her web. In the back of their minds, they knew the spider was coming to eat them, but they honestly couldn't bring themselves to care.

"_The Dark Arts_…" The words rolled off her tongue like honey, dribbling out and capturing them with the sweetness. They were flies, the lot of them – flies in a web, flies in a honey jar…

Stuck either way.

"I have just stated the basest of our magical laws – a law so ancient it existed before Wizards were even conscious of magic and their own power, before we could tell the difference between Muggle and Wizard and magic was classified as 'miracles' of deities. The law that everything has a price. It goes back to the times before rituals were refined into potions – when _lives _would be sacrificed for feats of magic so _great _they can barely be imagined today. But it still occurs today – as you can see, Mr Goyle spent himself transfiguring matchsticks into needles. _Everything has a price – magic has a price._

"It was the one thing we could all actually agree on, before one idiotically psychotic genius, Dernes Fwibbit, discovered a manner in which he could execute a spell powerful enough to slice a Wizard's skin, never to be healed… And it cost him no more energy than the simplest of cutting charms."

The possibilities were endless – spells with little to no cost, waiting to be cast – it would be an instant advantage over any opponent, provided they weren't using the Dark Arts as well – in which case it would be foolish not to, by giving the other side an unfair advantage, but then-

"Why doesn't everyone just use the Dark Arts, then? I think it sounds like we should." It was Draco, of course, who had opened his mouth. But before the professor could get around to answering, the loud mouth of Hufflepuff, Ernie MacMillan, responded:

"But the Dark Arts are most decidedly evil!"

Harry almost turned around to glare at the boy as he felt that magical spell that had been weaving so intoxicatingly around him wither and die, but managed to keep his head and stay still, trying to shake himself out of it – what had gotten into him?

_The Dark Arts, obviously._

"Yes, Mr. MacMillan." Professor Perenelle drawled. "That _is_ the rather decidedly unfortunate side-effect.

"Mr. Malfoy, there are two reasons why we don't all just use Dark Spells. The first is that they are almost all curses. The Dark Arts require strong feeling, belief and desire in order to be used. Because of this the majority of the spells we've created within the branch of magic are quite destructive and quite often malicious. There are a few medical applications, but they are largely unknown as the media has publicised the Dark Arts as something 'evil' – and so it's quite rare that research into the Dark Arts is done – and when it is, it is usually done by Dark Lords trying to take over the world – I've heard they're not the types for healing kittens.

"So that's the first reason – there are very few _moral _reasons for using Dark Curses. The other reason, Mr. Malfoy, is that the Dark Arts are addictive – those who use them tend to go _insane_."

At these words, Draco looked quite pale, although it was hard to tell as Draco's skin was already fair. Beside him, Daphne was gripping Harry's hand as tightly as she could without it falling off. Harry wondered if he should ask her what she was worried about – but he would do that later. When they were alone. Then again, she probably wouldn't want to talk about it. He should just leave her alone. Maybe if it came up again he'd mention it.

"The Dark Arts are addictive – the more you use them, the more you want to use them… But more than that, they cloud your judgement and stop you from making the most obvious steps of logic. They confuse your emotions, most commonly bringing rage and hurt to the forefront. Now… Oh, _Merlin's artificial tits_…"

There was a pause as the class stared at Professor Perenelle, not quite knowing what to make of the… odd… profanity. She was holding her head in her hands as if she had a migraine, eyes down so she couldn't see them. It took a second for her to realise what she had just said in front of a bunch of first years, but when she did her head snapped up again, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Pretend you didn't hear that, ok?" When a few of them nodded absently, she explained. "Sorry, I meant for you lot to have a class discussion, but I just barged in here and started talking… Look, I have a monologuing problem. I _really _need to see someone, or _something_, about it… Heaven knows it's a pain in the a-… I just won't finish that, ok?

"So, to get back onto the class discussion idea… Can you tell me some theories about how the Dark Arts may work or not work around the Law of Magic, given what we've heard?"

And so the class trickled back into discussion, quite amused by their new professor. Harry himself thought she was rather… there was no other way to describe it but 'cool'. She spoke like a young person, dressed like one and interacted with them like one (a part from the odd monologue, although apparently this was how she treated everyone). Because really, she was young – and cool – and Harry rather liked having her as a teacher.

"Well, obviously the rules don't apply to Dark Magic." Jones said snootily, making Harry wish someone would cast some Dark Magic on _her_. Hopefully something that would strip her of her vocal cords.

"No, it's possible that they do, just in a different way." Theodore, surprisingly, spoke up. "For example… Using too much of the Dark Arts could sacrifice your sanity, thus fulfilling the 'everything has a price' ideal."

They discussed this theory for a few more minutes before Professor Perenelle interrupted yet again.

"What you are talking about now is probably the theory most accepted throughout the world, however there is another theory prevalent among students of the Dark Arts. This theory states that it is not the Dark Arts themselves that corrupt, rather it is the power that they bring the user that does the corrupting.

"If this theory were true, it would mean that _the _Law of Magic isn't true. Instead, it would give way to another modern theory, this one rarely discussed outside of the Department of Mysteries: That truly, magic has no limits."

Harry felt his eyes go round as a full moon. He saw nothing at all. He saw everything.

"Instead, it is your will, and your will alone, that controls this world. You shape the world. Your will bends reality at your command. The deeper your conviction, need, lust, desperation, determination, faith… It is for these reasons that accidental magic occurs – as a child you believe that things will happen, so they do. You are _magic_. There is no such thing as a 'strong' or 'weak' Wizard – only an instance where one is not as committed as the other.

"So, in a sense, you were right originally, Mr. Malfoy: Magic _is _power… But it's so much more that that…

"I hope you understand what it means for _you_ if this theory is true."

_If_ this theory is true? Every member of the class knew what she meant: 'This theory is true.'

The words rang out.

"You can do _anything_," she hissed the word, "if you _want _it enough."

Not even Goyle's soft snores could interrupt this moment.

"After all, Magic is…"

But apparently, the ringing of the bell could.

They never did find out what she was going to say.

They never did get that exact definition of _what _Magic is.

_-NoR-_

It was Friday.

For the Slytherin First Years, this meant potions with Professor Snape.

For Harry, it meant finally getting a chance to corner Ethan.

Of course, it wasn't the _first _Friday since term had started, and naturally it wasn't the _second _either. No, it was the third Friday of the whole term, and Ethan had finally shown up, albeit late, to potions.

From what Harry had heard, the Boy Who Lived had been getting a number of bizarre bugs on Fridays, necessitating that he stay in the hospital wing, but as soon as the day was done he'd get over them. Now, Harry knew Madame Pomfrey wasn't easily fooled, so the idiot must have actually cursed himself or gone to some other extreme in order to get out of going to potions – and seeing Harry. And while Harry had to admire the dedication, he most assuredly _didn't _admire the results.

But this time, Harry had a plan. For one thing he was in the seat closest to the door and so could catch the boy out if he tried to make a break for it. For another, he had Professor Snape on his side (his mother, when hearing about his troubles cornering Ethan, had helped to mastermind this plan). Because finally, the only seat available for Ethan was next to him.

"Ah… the Boy-Wonder … Late, I see. Five points from Gryffindor." The Potions Master sneered.

"But – sir…"

"Another five points, Potter, for speaking out of turn. Sit down – there's a seat next to Mystery Boy – that should keep you… _happy_."

If the rest of the class understood what Snape meant by this, they didn't show it, instead continuing to glance through the list of ingredients for Forgetfulness potion, and beginning to prepare them.

"_Look, Ethan…_" Harry was going to continue, although with what he wasn't sure as all his preparations were currently flying out the window, when Ethan interrupted.

"_Look, Harry, I really don't care what you have to say_." Harry's twin muttered back at him, eyes still fixated on the mortar and pestle in his hands, methodically crushing the ingredients. Which was probably a good thing, as when Harry glanced up at the class he caught their pitying faces flick back suddenly to their own work. Harry shuddered slightly, but ignored it, returning his attention to the cauldron.

For ten minutes the classroom was silent as the grave, but for the low hisses of the bubbling cauldrons and grinding as they prepared the ingredients.

Ethan's fingers were tense and trembling as he poured in Lethe River water, slowly, cautiously…

"_Ethan…_" Harry's voice was barely above a whisper, but it caused Ethan to start, dropping the entire bottle into the cauldron.

"Idiot boy!"

Professor Snape didn't even have time to deduct points from Gryffindor before the potion exploded over the two of them.

_-NoR-_

A few hours later, Harry was lying in bed, waiting for Ethan to wake up. Madam Pomfrey had already pronounced his memory perfectly fine, but he had convinced her to let him stay for a while, as he was worried about his twin. She had readily agreed, as Harry didn't have any classes, and was a family member.

Only now, he had to wait for the idiot to wake up.

How the boy had managed to drop the entire bottle in, Harry didn't know. He was only supposed to spill in a little, and with Harry's earlier addition of a speck of wolfsbane the potion should have spurted a bit so that they would have to be checked for signs of memory loss, and thus go to the hospital wing, giving Harry some time to talk. But instead, Ethan had thrown in the entire _bottle_, resulting in an _explosion_, from which Harry had barely dragged him away in time. Harry wouldn't be surprised if Ethan _was _suffering from memory loss.

But Madam Pomfrey had said that his brother should be fine. So everything should be okay.

Ethan's eyes fluttered open.

"_Ethan,_" Harry hissed, but the boy didn't hear him, so he called to the nurse, "Madam Pomfrey, Ethan's awake!"

She came bustling over, running checks with her wand, as Ethan slowly sat up, tensing slightly as he saw Harry.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Well I _do_, look, Ethan, I'm _sorry_ for _everything_. I've been an idiot, and-"

"I don't want to hear it, Harry."

Madam Pomfrey was, thankfully, ignoring their words as she clucked about, before hurrying off to the potions cabinet, muttering about a potion or two.

"Can't you at least _listen_? We're brothers, Ethan, no, we're twins-"

"So what? Didn't stop you."

And really, there was nothing Harry could say to that.

Instead, he waited in silence, not knowing what to say, but determined not to be the first to leave. Because this time, Harry knew it was him who was in the wrong. And Ethan was once again the better twin; the one who did the right thing, trying to stop the fighting. Harry had consciously tried to hurt his brother, while Ethan had only done so accidentally.

"Yes, well, aren't you perfect, Mr. Boy-Who-Lived." Harry said bitterly as Madam Pomfrey gave them both a spoonful of some sort of stabilizer, declaring them ready to leave.

Ethan turned to him, face contorted in miserable rage.

"You – Who are – supposed to be _twins_… I hate you!"

And with that, he ran out the door.

_-NoR-_

Somehow, time passed.

Ethan still ignored Harry, but now Harry was trying to ignore him back, so he told himself (and Daphne, who wouldn't stop hounding him about it) that he didn't care, because it didn't matter. Draco wondered aloud why Harry would even want that Gryffindor loser as a friend, while Pansy wrapped her arms around him and told him everything would be fine, acting like someone close to him had died. The only thing Harry liked about this was that she inadvertently protected him from Millicent, who was also trying to comfort him.

Before they knew it, the exams were no longer in the distant future. Teachers and students alike seemed to be panicking at the prospect, the teachers setting more homework than ever before, and the students making study timetables. Harry and his Slytherins revised together, oddly enough joined by some of the Hufflepuffs. Ever since their classes with Professor Perenelle had begun the first year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs had begun to get along. The Muggleborn Finchly, of all people, had been the leader in this new friendship of sorts, with Daphne close to follow. Draco, Harry could tell, hadn't been happy about it, but he hadn't said anything either. It also meant that Jones was spending more time with the group, as was MacMillan, but sacrifices had to be made. Finchly (Daphne's nickname had stuck) was surprisingly good company, and Susan Bones was an interesting person to talk to.

Besides, the hard-working qualities of Hufflepuffs made them fantastic study partners.

From what Harry could tell, Ethan would be doing fine in his exams, at the insistence of Granger the know-it-all. He had started studying quite a while before Harry had and when he wasn't drawing, but instead concentrating, he was a good student. Of course, he breezed through classes without the concentrating, because he was the perfect Boy-Who-Lived, but by putting effort in, Harry knew Ethan's grades were going to be some of the best in the year…

"You're jealous again, aren't you?"

At the sound of Daphne's voice Harry sat up straight, wiping the glare he'd been wearing from his face.

"What? I don't know what you mean."

She smiled knowingly at him, yet managed not to look condensing. "Ah, so you weren't just glowering in your brother's direction because you've convinced yourself that he's going to do better than you in these exams, life, and basically everything else."

Harry should have been surprised, but he wasn't. By now, he expected Daphne knew most everything about him.

Almost.

"That obvious, huh?" He sighed. "I know it's stupid, but sometimes I can't help but think… He _is _just so much better than me, but he doesn't even realise it. He's bloody _perfect_, so where does that leave me? And d'you know what the worst thing is? It's the fact that I'm so bloody _jealous _that makes him just so much better. Isn't that stupid? He's better, so I'm jealous, so he's better, so I'm jealous…"

Daphne took his hand in hers, and with her other lifted his chin up so he was looking her in the eyes.

"He's not perfect, Harry."

She shushed Harry's protests, swatting them away like flies.

"_Nobody_ is perfect, Harry, no matter what you may think, so Ethan certainly isn't. But you're not inferior to him, either. You know your spells are more powerful than his, and you've told me you're the better flier. Besides, Harry, you're _my _best friend – doesn't _that _tell you something?"

Indeed it did. Because, now that Harry thought about it, if anyone were to be perfect, it would be Daphne herself.

"After school finishes you can talk to him, but for now let's focus on exams."

Harry nodded, and they fell into silence. Shortly, Finchly returned to their table, a stack of books floating behind him, and they picked up their revision a notch. If the Hufflepuff noticed something was wrong, he didn't mention it.

_-NoR-_

"You haven't been dreaming."

"No."

It was another Friday evening. Lily sighed that she had yet again wasted her time, when really she could have spotted the trend from a mile away: the only dreams Harry was having, as of late, were reruns. The snippets of Voldemort's life had stopped some time around December.

But seeing Harry made up for any regrets.

"Harry, before you go, _please _be careful of Quirrell… He's not safe. For you or Ethan."

She watched Harry give a tired nod before he stumbled out the door. He was less fatigued than he had been at the beginning of their little sessions, which was both good and bad. Good because it was easier on her son; bad because this subject was developing a rudimentary form of Occlumency, which might lead to him blocking out the strange dreams he received, which would not be good at all. Not that the connection was doing much good these days anyway.

Severus re-entered his office, face as stony cold as always.

"I spoke to Flamel as you suggested. She was thankful for the tip-off about Quirrell, although she had begun to suspect him herself. Amusingly enough, her second option was myself. I did not mention your son. She would be more than willing to help us protect the stone, should the need arise."

"Thank you, Sev."

She smiled lightly at him, trying to ignore the strained silence between them. Severus was anxious. She felt the worry too. It was building up to something massive. They weren't sure when Quirrell would attack, but that each day he didn't the chances grew higher.

Severus spoke up, trying to break the tension and talk about something other than… that.

"She was carrying a dragon's egg from the Forbidden Forest when I gave the message. She has said that she found it nested in one of the branches – I believe it must have been dropped when the Norwegian Ridgeback mother and her eggs were being transported to Ecuador. She will be giving it to Albus, who will have one of his contacts transport it to a reserve."

Lily hummed in agreement, but didn't take up the bait of conversation. She was too focused on the upcoming events to worry about some dragon egg.

Severus held back a sigh. Lily was too focused now to talk about anything other than the robbery.

"He'll wait until Dumbledore has left." He volunteered. She nodded absently, her mind going at a hundred miles an hour. "He'll also want to wait until he believes Flamel to be gone."

But Perenelle would be on her guard now, after her husband's death, so Quirrell wouldn't attempt taking her out. Instead he would have to organise it so that Perenelle was gone from the school during the robbery… which meant that as soon as Perenelle had to leave, they would know that Quirrell was about to go through the trapdoor.

"You know what to tell her, Severus. As soon as she alerts you that she must leave the castle, you will tell me and I will follow him to protect the stone."

Severus' head shot up, worrying cracking his face.

"Lily, why? The stone's protections are impenetrable. There's no need for you to _risk _your life; at least let me-"

"You think this is about protecting the _stone_, Sev?" She gave a high, cold laugh. "Oh no, the stone's just a means to an end. I've been waiting almost eleven years for this. There's no way you're coming with me. This is _my _showdown."

_-NoR-_

Exams finished with History of Magic. Harry couldn't articulate just how relieved he felt when Umbridge (finally) told them to put their quills down (three minutes later than she should have, but who's counting?). It was brilliant to be able to walk outside and not feel the pressure to study and prepare… Although what he would give to know his marks right that second…

In transfiguration Harry's snuffbox had been quite a beautiful thing, although it had been the same shade of white as his original mouse. If Harry were marked down on the practical section, he would hold firm that he had wanted it to be white and that McGonagall shouldn't have taken points. His Defence exam went rather well, but he hadn't understood Quirrell's stuttering – then again, neither had anyone else in the school. Tap-dancing pineapples was fun, if basic, and the astronomy exam was simple enough. Harry barely survived the potions exam (and by Merlin was it cruel for Snape to set a Forgetfulness potion on them – that potion both Harry and Ethan hadn't managed to complete) but by the end he was quite certain that he hadn't failed.

The MSIE exam wasn't much of an exam (Professor Perenelle didn't believe in such horrors). Instead she told them to each show off to the class something they had learnt that semester (she was quite certain that everything taught in the first semester her students should have already known, and she would be _extremely _disappointed if they hadn't). In the MSIE classes as of late they'd done more experiments with their magic. They'd played around with silent casting; she'd explained wand movements to them (…_generally any spell with a swish in it will be a charm, and flicking is common to levitation spells: _wingardium leviosa_ is the base of most spells of its kind_…) and she'd even shown them a bit of wandless magic. She hadn't let them try any Dark Magic, as she believed that it was too dangerous for first year ('_or even fourth years'_). For Harry's 'lesson learned' he'd shown something he'd been practising for the past few weeks now – he cast _lumos_ without touching his wand. It hadn't been very bright, and it had been nothing compared to Daphne's show (the girl had created a spell that bounced an object up and down, however she'd been marked down a bit because she'd already known from her mother some of the spell creation techniques) but Harry thought he'd done fine.

Walking out with his friends into the sunshine, Harry didn't think he could ever feel bad again.

"_Harry, whatever you do, don't look to your left_." Daphne's voice whispered in his ear and it took all his will not to groan. He shouldn't have spoken so soon.

"_What is it?_" He mumbled back, eyes determinedly looking straight ahead. He rather thought he knew what 'it' was, but he'd rather know for sure.

Daphne didn't answer; simply giving a look that told him he was right.

Ethan and his merry band of Gryffindors were there.

Now Harry had to decide. He could ignore them, even go back inside… But Lily _had _said that both he _and _Ethan should be careful of Quirrell – and how would Ethan know to be careful if Harry didn't tell him?

The fact that Harry was trying to convince himself to talk to Ethan was what decided it.

"Daphne? Finchly? Coming?"

Finchly didn't have to ask to realise what was going on, which was good, because Harry didn't feel much like explaining. They left behind the rest of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, making their way to the Gryffindors. They were not warmly greeted.

"Potter! What are you doing here?" Thomas glowered at him, before noticing his retinue. "Finch-Fletchley? What are you doing with _him_?"

Finchly moved to stand beside Harry, his head held high. Harry was struck suddenly that this was another Hufflepuff quality that Harry was now reaping the benefits of – loyalty.

"We're friends." He said simply, killing any doubts with a look.

But Harry didn't want to deal with any more of this, so he got straight to the point.

"Ethan, Mum told me to tell you to be careful of Quirrell. He's dangerous."

Harry turned to leave, but stopped when he felt Ethan's hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, what? _Quirrell? _What are you on about? He's about the least harmless person I could imagine. And besides, why couldn't Mum have just written?"

Turning around, Harry almost growled. He wanted to _leave_. He could feel a headache coming on… Maybe he could go see Madam Pomfrey on the way?

"I don't know, okay, but Mum probably thought it was too sensitive to be written."

"Mum was here? Why didn't she see me?"

Harry's thoughts flashed. He was having private 'lessons' (of sorts) with his mother. He was spending time with her, and Ethan didn't know. A year ago, he'd been in Ethan's position, but this time for Ethan it was true. Almost. Because really, Harry wasn't stealing Lily, and _neither was Ethan_.

"Professor Snape passed on the message." Harry lied, knowing Lily wouldn't like it if he told his brother about the Friday evening meetings. "Look, I've got a headache, but as for why Quirrell, I think she said it was something about Voldemort-"

Harry gasped suddenly as the pain in his scar suddenly grew to be too much. He fell to the ground, clutching his head and silently screamed. Desperately he looked up at his brother, eyes pleading. The last thing he saw before black took over was Ethan turning away.

_-NoR-_

Well, here it is. I hope you liked it. The finale of Part 1 will be out in two-three days.

Please review – constructive criticism is begged for!


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: Nightmares of Reality**

**Author: **Claire (.morbidity)

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Family/Tragedy

**Pairings: **_Probably_ no pairings. I think. A part from the obvious ones – e.g. between married couples. But a** Pairing Warning: **none of the relationships will be nice. They'll probably all come crashing down. The main ones that I've figured out are LE/JP and LE/SS.

In case you were wondering, no: there will not be a Harry/Lily pairing.

**Warnings: **Probably eventual murder, insanity (not the happy kind so prevalent in fanfics: the scary, dark, serious talk with your psychiatrist kind), death, torture, character death, nastiness in general, in this chapter specifically there's scariness, action, profanity, **torture threats**, some **crucios** and, naturally, there are spoilers.

So… The rating right now is T. It's quite possible that at some point it will go up to M. Before this I've thought of this story as K+, but I think that it has now moved into T… possibly M, I'm bad with ratings. So… be warned.

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to JKR.

**Extended Summary: **The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.

**Notes: **As promised, here is the next chapter – which is also the final chapter of part one! Not much to say, but…

**Before I forget: Thank you everyone who reviewed!** You're all amazing people. I keep forgetting to put this at the beginning of every chapter, so please here me now: I appreciate each and every one of you.

[So please review :)]

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

**Chapter 9**

The day was no more interesting than any other.

Perenelle had supervised exams, caught a couple of fourth years cheating, and had made polite conversation at lunch with the other teachers. Then in the afternoon she had found herself a quiet spot in the library with a book on trade in the Philippines during the 1800s. It had not calmed her nerves, and inevitably she had lost focus on the subject her plan had begun to work its way into her thoughts, spinning around her head until she could think of nothing else, but at least her anxiety had not transferred into her body language.

No matter that her thoughts were a jittering mess, she would not let herself be seen as anything other than the part she played.

After her dinner – spaghetti marinara, a favourite of hers – she left the Great Hall alongside the Muggle Studies Professor, Charity Burbage, discussing the recent development of the 'Internet'. They had made their way to the Staff room and spent half an hour chatting before Pomona Sprout, the great gossip, had entered with the dreadful news that Harry Potter seemed to be having a fit of some sort. Perenelle had been quick to leave, not wanting to force yet another gossip session with Pomona upon herself.

Once in her rooms, she had begun to pace up and down the corridor, waiting for the clock to strike nine. The anticipation she had been carefully ignoring throughout the day was suddenly breaking its banks, overflowing her brain with thoughts of trapdoors and wards. The feeling was quite unusual: she was not one for nerves. But then again, she had never been one for pacing either. Thankfully she wasn't biting her fingernails, or worse tapping – she couldn't stand it when nerves were expressed in such infuriating manners.

Taking a deep breath she sat down beside the fireplace, curled up in a ball. She had always liked fires. Growing up, warmth had been hard to come by. Coming to Hogwarts, the fires had been yet another symbol of the fresh start she was making.

Not that she had ever sat like this – so childishly – when anyone could see her.

Quite out of the blue, the clock chimed. She jumped up immediately, summoning her cloak and heading for the door. Within a minute she was gliding along the stone passages of the castle, entering a passage disguised as a stone wall, and finding herself on the third floor corridor.

The doors on the right hand side opened for her with a wave of her wand and she strode through, conjuring a harp to sooth the whimpering Cerberus. Pausing to dismantle the wards around the trap door, she levitated herself in, smirking slightly as the Devil's Snare shrivelled away into nothing at her touch. Her poor Nicolas would be horrified to see her now – but wasn't that the point?

It took her a second to work out a balance between the spells on the keys and the door so that one would allow her entry, but she wasn't the greatest witch of all time for nothing. Soon enough the lock clicked, and on she went.

The enchantments on the chessboard were irritatingly clever – so clever that she was forced to actually _play _the game in order to move on. And if there was one thing Perenelle hated, it was chess. Even when she made her way to the end of the board, no magic would allow her to step off – except magics she dare not use in the castle; magics that would likely bring the entire building down on top of her, a prospect she did not find enjoyable. Oh, she would have survived, but she would not wish such a thing upon her only home.

The troll keeled over and died at the sight of her. The strong, obvious compulsions to drink the nettle wine were dispelled in a trice, as were the better-hidden yet not as powerful coercions to drink the poisonous concoctions or one of the potions that would provide protection from the flames. Finally, she destroyed the logic-hampering magics and found that, unsurprisingly, the potion that would allow her to move onwards was the one that had been spelled with a compulsion, in case someone had tried to discern the answer without having to read the riddle.

Finally she entered the room with the mirror: the room she knew to be the end of the line: _this _was where the stone was kept.

Perenelle, as was her habit, immediately scanned the room for magic, but as she had expected found nothing out of the ordinary – the mirror excluded. For the mirror was very interesting indeed. It pulsed, practically radiated, strong magic, and from its soul came a beacon of light and hope so familiar she felt like singing. She could hear her stone calling for her. It wanted her.

But she had a job to do. Before she could free her stone she had to make it safe, so that the entire room wouldn't explode when it left the mirror. Nicolas' final protection had been a harsh, but necessary measure. They hadn't believed anyone could defeat the magic of three of the greatest wizards alive today, but she was one of them; she was the greatest of both the dead and the living. Nobody could stand in her way.

Not even the silly little red haired girl, about to stumble through the fire.

Far below, that silly little red haired girl's son was dreaming a nightmare.

_-NoR-_

Perenelle was still studying the mirror when Lily entered. The enchantments were, admittedly, rather astounding. Nicolas, Dumbledore and herself had worked together on them and it would take her a while longer to work out exactly what to do, but she would make it. She just needed more time. Time that Lily Evans wasn't giving her.

"Perenelle Flamel? What are _you _doing here?" The foolish girl questioned. She sounded suspicious and, Perenelle admitted, not quite as naïve as she remembered her to be. "What about Quirrell?"

Perenelle smirked, flicking her eyes to the girl's reflection in the mirror, right behind the image of herself holding the stone, in her own body, invincible…

"Well, I'm glad _somebody _fell for the ruse. I was beginning to think it was wasted on Dumbledore."

There was silence for a few seconds as the girl's eyes widened in shock, before they became calculating. Her face finally closed off from emotion as she figured it out.

"_Voldemort_."

Perenelle felt something click within the mirror's wards, and knew that the stone would no longer destroy her once removed. Grinning savagely, she turned to Lily, bowing her head slightly, but keeping her eyes fixated on the girl.

"Well done, Miss Evans. Well done, indeed. Now tell me how to remove the stone."

Yet the silly thing was still trapped in the hows and whys of the situation. Really, he wished she would get on with it. It was becoming tiresome, and he wanted the stone. Albus hadn't told Perenelle how to actually remove the stone from the mirror… but knowing Dumbledore it would be some sort of enchantment that made only those with pure intentions retrieve it. So really, it was rather good luck that the girl had followed after all – though _how _she had known it was tonight, he didn't have a clue. Albus had left on many a trip to the ministry, he'd made sure of it, and she couldn't have simply entered _every _night Albus was out – Voldemort would have spotted her.

"You possessed Perenelle in order to kill Nicolas Flamel." She stated, certain of herself.

"Wrong." He smirked at her. "Dearest Perenelle had already killed her darling husband when I arrived. You see, Perenelle isn't the saint you all believe her to be – oh, no, she's quite the opposite. Why, when she heard Nicolas had finished making a Philosopher's Stone she was ringing his bell within the hour. Married within a month… It didn't take long for her to convince him to share the stone with her."

The girl – woman now, he supposed, was staring at him. Her eyes were dark, betraying nothing, but Voldemort could sense a hint of surprise.

"And now… Well, Perenelle could hardly let the stone be destroyed, now could she? So she killed her husband and was ready to come to Hogwarts… to 'protect' the stone herself. However she was not sure that she could do it all by herself… And so I merged with her, ridding myself of that fool Quirrell's body, and immersing myself in the knowledge of _centuries_... And no one was the wiser!"

"And you now have a body that has access to Occlumency shields…" the woman muttered, and his eyes narrowed. What was this about Occlumency? Why would it matter? He was certain neither Albus nor Severus had performed Legilimency on him… Unless…

"There is a connection between Ethan Potter and myself."

He knew it to be true as he said it, for the woman's eyes widened, betraying her.

"Don't you _dare _touch my sons."

Voldemort heard the plural – the protection cast over both Ethan and the boy Harry. But he put it to the back of his mind, to study later. Now there were more important things to deal with.

Namely, the girl.

And the stone.

"Ah, is it repetition you want? '_Stand aside, you silly girl?_' But I don't _want_ you to stand aside. In fact, I want you to stand here," he gestured to the space in front of him, "and tell me what you see."

"You _bastard_. I will _never_ do something for you -"

But Voldemort had already raised his wand, and was dragging her across the room. He could feel the energy she was exerting to stop him, but he was Lord Voldemort – he could not be defeated. She would fail, just like they all did-

"No!" She screamed and flung herself from his control. He felt his magic fling back at him like a whip, but he quickly controlled it. "I'm not some _little girl_ anymore, Voldemort. I have been preparing for this for _years_. I will _kill_ you." A maniacal gleam in her eyes promised pain.

Voldemort felt anticipation rise in him, and spells began to rush through his mind. No unforgivable curses – they were, after all, the most draining of all Dark Magics and if Albus came he would want to be his best. This body wasn't as powerful as his own and he really couldn't afford to be weakened should something go wrong – not that it would, but Lily Evans had surprised him before. But all the same, the Brain-frying curse was always fun, as was _arsurumorba_, which created a terrible fever inside the person, building up over ten or so hours, at which point the victim would die. The problem with this curse was that its affects didn't begin to show until about an hour later, so it was good if placed before a battle or some such thing, but it was practically useless when you expected that the victim wouldn't be alive fifteen minutes later. Then there were the good old cutting curses, the curses that cut off the victim's senses, the strangling curse, the Purple Claw curse and that one curse Avery had invented that made the victim forget themself for a moment and snap their own wand – while it wasn't particularly torturous, it was always amusing to see them realise that they'd destroyed their only hope of surviving. And then there was always defensive mechanisms to think about – what about a gargoyle guardian? But they took up rather a lot of power… Best stick to shielding. There was that spell he'd created in Parseltongue that shielded fairly well, but even the simplest of Dark Magics broke it down, which was rather annoying. He'd have to see wait and see what the girl cast. And there was always conjuration and the like…

Their wands were by their sides. They were still.

Lily was the first to cast. A slash through the air, and orange light was speeding towards him-

He tilted his head, and let it brush past his curls.

"No, definitely _not_ the naïve little girl I last saw – a bone shattering curse? _Naughty, naughty_." He waggled his finger at her.

"That's just the beginning."

There was no time for a retort as both launched into action. Curses were flying left, right and centre, neither moving from their spots. Voldemort had to admit; Lily was _much _better than the last time they'd fought – or rather, much better than the last time she had been in a condition to fight him well, because last time she hadn't had her wand, and the time before she'd been pregnant. It had been the second time they'd met in battle – the second time she'd refused to join him – that she had been at her best enough to surprise him.

This time, however, (the fifth time they'd met) she was a challenge.

But he was still the better.

"_Ferociventum!_" He hissed at her, sending a dark cloud of magic towards her, suddenly making a break for the left. She took a second to dispel it, and a second longer to realise he had disappeared. In the next second, the ground at her feet was wrecked, and all the bones below her ankles shattered. She fell to the ground with a cry, but did not give in.

"_Crucio!" _She screamed. Red light bolted towards him, but a step to the side had it harmlessly flying past him.

"_Hmm… _Unforgivables, Mrs Potter? What an example to set your children."

She glared at him, but was too weak to cast anything more.

"Lily, I don't want us to fight. You truly are an exceptional opponent. Together, we could do so much…"

"You tried to kill my sons, you _thrice-damned son of a hag_!"

He noticed that she was losing blood fast – already her face was turning pale. It wouldn't do for her to die on him – it would be so much easier if she retrieved the stone for him. Quickly he healed her legs. Or at least he stopped them from bleeding anymore. She still wouldn't be able to walk until she'd seen a healer – and the pain was still there.

She just wouldn't be dying on him any time soon.

"But Lily, I won't _have _to kill you if you join me. If you were to join me I could protect your sons – and your daughter too. Lord Voldemort cares for those who help him. Do what I say, Lily, and I will give you everything you've ever wanted. Your family will be safe…"

He could see Lily's eyes gain a glimmer of hope at the prospect. Of course, he wasn't exactly telling the full truth. Her family certainly would be safe… For a time. Until they were old enough to join him, at which point their safety was in their own hands. And really, whether James survived was a matter of whether or not he himself joined him. And of course he'd have to keep an eye on Ethan… But from his own observations during classes, Harry would be a powerful follower if he one day got past his cowardice and insecurities. But the girl didn't need to know that.

"Just give me the stone…"

Lily gave a nod, caught under the spell of his voice like so many before her. He had been glad to see that he was still able to work his little compulsion trick into his voice – it hadn't worked in Quirrell's body. Perhaps it was a question of how powerful the body he was using was?

Slowly, the girl crawled, still whimpering slightly, to the mirror. She stopped before it, head still bowed.

"Look into it." He commanded, fighting to keep his tone soft. It would not do to break the spell now.

She glanced up. What she saw he couldn't see, but it didn't take long before he noticed a slight bulge in the pocket of her robes.

She reached in, and took it out.

There was a pause, before she whispered, "But – Nicolas' protections…"

Voldemort laughed at this – although maybe he shouldn't have. After all, she had just revealed that she had tricked him into believing she was under his command – why hadn't he realised she knew Occlumency? – but that the silly thing believed he hadn't known about the protections…

"Lily… Of course I knew what would happen. Did I not tell you I inherited Dear Perenelle's memory? I knew all about Nicolas' protections and undid them before you came… But were you going to sacrifice yourself? You know it wouldn't have killed me. You would have died, leaving your poor children motherless, and I would have lived! I will never die, girl. No matter the words of some pathetic prophecy. I am immortal, Lily. Now give me the stone!"

"No! Why do you even need the stone, if you're already immortal? You have a body, why would you need -"

She never finished as he screamed, "_Crucio!_"

For a second, all she felt was pain. White-hot needles plunging into her skin, while her heart froze. She could feel every cell in her body writhing in agony. He was cutting her with a blunt knife into microscopic pieces, inflicting the curse onto every one of them, then haphazardly putting her back together, if only so she could feel and acknowledge the pain she was in.

But the curse was soon lifted.

"I can see you are indeed experienced in the Unforgivable Curses, Miss Evans. You didn't even scream."

He didn't like that. The screaming tended to be the best part of the curse. The second best being that you couldn't develop an immunity to it like some other pain curses: it wasn't a set level of torture. Instead it was the victim's own personal hell. The only thing you could do is learn not to open your mouth.

"_You twice-fucked whore of a mountain troll, I'll turn you inside out and set fire to your entrails. Then I'll watch you burn while you _scream_ because you won't die – if you're as fucking _immortal _as you say you are. Then I'll slowly slice up your skin, piece by piece, and then sew it back together just to see you _scream_ in agony. Then I'll crucio you, not until you're _screaming_ to die, but until you're _screaming_ for more just like the twisted piece of shit that you are, you fucked up son of a two-headed runespoor and its goblin owner. And then -_"

"As lovely as this is to hear, I'd prefer that you _give me the stone_." Voldemort interrupted, snarling the last few words, finally losing any patience he had once possessed.

Lily stopped, but still she did not hold out her hand. He could feel that with every ounce of her strength, she was resisting his magic's pull to do what he told her. But it would not last. Soon she would fail.

She tilted her head to the side, green eyes glowing with some hidden power. Voldemort saw her take a deep breath, and began to rise to her knees.

"That's the way, Lily. Together we'll do great things. Just give me the stone and I'll give you all you ever wanted. I know your dreams, Lily Evans. I have seen your deepest, darkest desires. You yearn, Lily, but what you yearn for is not unachievable. Together we can conquer anything, even _death_."

Slowly, she rose to her feet, whimpering slightly from the pain.

"What? How is this possible?" Voldemort scrambled for some logic – how could the girl stand when the bones in her foot were broken? There was no reason; she was not strong enough… Even with desperation factored in, her magic was not powerful enough to spontaneously mend such splintered, complicated objects. So how…

"Good evening, Tom."

_-NoR-_

Lily scanned the room, energy suddenly coursing through her veins. She had been an idiot to think she could take on the Dark Lord so soon – but next time, there was always next time – she would be better prepared, better equipped… Well, there was now a next time, thanks to her saviour.

"Dumbledore. How kind of you to join us." Perenelle – Voldemort, Lily reminded herself – wore a brilliant grin on her face that didn't reach his eyes.

"Tom, I must ask that you leave Hogwarts grounds immediately."

The old headmaster entered the room, navy blue robes lapping at the floor behind him. His expression was the same as always – kindly and benevolent – but Lily could see the slight tension in his arm as he held his wand ready by his side. His eyes didn't have the twinkle she remembered from her school days. She could see slight nuances in his face that brought her back to those days holed up in headquarters, waiting for news, waiting for the next attack, waiting for the next sabotage mission she would be sent on…

Voldemort gave them no warning. He didn't even move his wand before Dumbledore was sent flinging across the room and into the mirror with a great smash, and Lily was sent back into the potions room. She got to her feet quickly, but soon Perenelle Flamel was in after her with a cutting curse. Lily dodged, but landed on top of the potions, smashing the vials. Her head was spinning. But she knew to keep hold of the stone. She had to protect the stone. She held it so tight in her hand that flesh and stone seemed to merge… She could feel blood leaking through her back and mixing with the poisons and wines…

There was a growl from above Lily, and she tried to sit up. What was going on? She couldn't see very well, everything seemed blurry. Was somebody holding her hand? The hand with the stone in it.

She felt a soft hand open her mouth, carefully pouring in a smooth liquid. She drank it gratefully.

The next minute she was being flung through the flames, a dark mass of energy passing after her. Gradually, she was coming to her senses. She felt a blue jet of what must have been water, deadly though it was, rush past her.

Which meant Dumbledore was after them.

Which meant everything would be fine.

As she was hurled into the room of chess, Lily had had enough. With a push of her magic, she regained control of herself, landing upright.

In the centre of the chessboard.

For a second, everything was still. Pere- the Dark Lord was on the white square beside her, muscles tight, eyes searching for the slightest sign of at twitch from the pieces.

He didn't have to wait.

The pawns were charging, and Lily didn't think twice before sending blasters – everything from _reducto_ to _frustior_. But it was no use. She even tried to levitate herself, but she found she could go no higher than she could jump. She doubted she could walk off sideways. Beside her, Voldemort was flinging everything he had – Lily thought she saw a few transfigurations – and was that an entrails-exploding curse?

Not that she'd have minded, if it had worked.

The pawns advanced, with the second row not far behind. Reflexively, Lily put up a shield. To her surprise, the pawns slowed. But she soon discovered that they were simply waiting for reinforcements. The knights, rooks, bishops, kings and queens attacked as one, batter her shields into nothing. Lily let out a terrified scream as they moved forwards towards her. For all that they were stone, they should have been slower. And soon the queens of black and white were upon her, raising their swords, ready to-

Lily let out a gasp as she felt a shield wash over her. It was much more powerful than her own. But only one person could have shielded her from that blow.

"Give me the stone, Lily." Perenelle Flamel's voice whispered to her. No matter that she knew it was the Dark Lord; Lily found she couldn't refer to him… her? ... as such. She was well aware that appearances could be deceiving, but Perenelle looked too… _nice_ to be Him. "Give me the stone and I'll have the power to get us both out with our bodies intact."

Lily knew she shouldn't. Flamel was probably lying, anyway.

A sword crashed into the shield. She thought she heard a crack.

With desperation, she looked to her hand that held the stone – only to find that she was no longer holding it. Instead, her palm had become a stone much similar to the one she had been protecting.

She let out an involuntary gasp.

"_No._" She whispered in amazement, causing Him to follow her gaze. There was a pause.

He made a grab for her hand.

"Give it to me, you little Mudblood bitch. You weak, pathetic little toad. Give it to me!" He spat the words at her, left hand trying to take control of her left. But half his focus was on the shield he was maintaining, while Lily had both free.

"Look at you – so _worthless_." He sneered. "Do you still cry at night for Mummy and Daddy, those filthy Muggles? And what about your sister, do you cry for her too? Although I don't know why you would – you're the one who killed her."

Lily froze, and realised too late that his hands were on top of her own, collecting magic from the stone already. But he was using both hands.

The shield collapsed.

She screamed as a mace descended upon them both.

_-NoR-_

Harry gave a startled yelp as he felt his mother's hand wrench away from him. What was happening? Why was he not in control? Suddenly he realised that the chess set was no longer attacking – or rather they were, but the largest was now about the size of his thumbnail – his current one, that is, not his original thumbnail, which was admittedly wider, but also shorter.

"Tom, I will ask you again to leave." It was Dumbledore speaking. He was addressing Harry again – in this dream whenever he spoke to Harry he called him 'Tom'. His mother also called him 'Voldemort' and 'Perenelle'. Harry was fairly sure she meant Professor Perenelle, so he wasn't sure why this was happening… But he found it hard to be confused right now. But he found he couldn't exactly think to find the logical reasons either.

"I don't think so, _Dumbledore_." Harry snarled.

He wasn't sure why he did this, but soon found that he was raising his wand. Spells were flying out, and Dumbledore was sending re-enlarged chess pieces towards him like a miniature army. Beside him, Lily was bleeding and looked in terrible pain – but all the same she was flinging curses right back at him.

Harry wanted to beg them to stop – why were they attacking him? – but he found he couldn't control his muscles.

But it did not matter. He would win. He would always win.

He got lucky when Lily stumbled, allowing him to disarm her, moving to her side. He would admit that he couldn't kill Dumbledore at the moment, but he didn't need to. Right now, all he needed was Lily Potter's hand.

"Give me your hand, Lily." He whispered to her between casting a tornado and defending himself from a rook.

"_You _killed her. It wasn't me. It was _you_."

He would let her believe her delusions – convincing her otherwise would not help him now. All he needed now was the stone.

"Give it to me and it won't matter. Give me the stone and _Delilah will live again_."

She was staring at nothing in particular, wearing a faraway look. It was odd that she seemed so peaceful with all the destruction going on around her. But it was somewhat picturesque that she didn't notice the chessboard crumbling at her feet.

"Lily, don't listen to him. He's lying!" Dumbledore's _helpful _contribution. Harry didn't know why Dumbledore always insisted on butting in on private conversations, but it was annoying. He could remember a week in his sixth year, right after break, when Dumbledore hadn't left him alone with anyone outside of his house without adding his two knuts to the conversation and sending him on his way – admittedly, it was the holiday after he had killed his father and perhaps Dumbledore had noticed something odd – but it was no reason to dog him for a whole week. And even now it was distracting him because really he should be focusing his attention on the duel, not one random week in his sixth year…

"Lies…" Lily whispered, her eyes misting a bit. She looked like she was about to cry. A part of Harry wanted to comfort her. Another part wanted to laugh.

But now he was getting impatient. He had waited almost eleven years for this opportunity and he'd be damned if he waited any longer it was right there in her hand – why couldn't the Mudblood just hurry up and _give it to him?_

"Give it to me or I'll murder your sons – tonight!" He screamed and was elated when he realised that the threat had gotten through to her. Her eyes were alight with horror and fear. As he noticed that he had gotten through to her, he turned his attention back to the duel, conjuring bits of shrapnel to tear at Dumbledore's defences.

All too soon, he felt a hard mass hit his head, causing him to drop both Perenelle's and Lily's wands.

"_Nobody threatens my children._"

_-NoR-_

Voldemort's head was pounding. He could feel Dumbledore's ranks closing in, and the shrapnel he'd conjured was being sent back at him, tearing at his skin.

The girl would pay for this.

He could tell that she had already made for her own wand, but his hand quickly reached out and summoned Perenelle's before she could take it. But he wasn't capable of much more. He was worn out – even the brief touch of the stone hadn't changed much of him, although he could feel that the connection between himself and Flamel had been strengthened. He estimated that this possession would last a few years, rather than the usual couple of months he received from snakes. Of course, with Perenelle's magical ability he had already been banking on a year or two at least, but the addition of that short burst of Philosopher's magic would give him another two or three.

After that, it would be time to search for a new host.

Or else a body of his own.

With the last of his strength, Voldemort transformed himself into a spirit form. This accomplishment was something he was rather proud of. He had learnt about the advantages of such a form as a spirit, but it was when the ability had transferred over to this body that he had been truly pleased.

Spirit form made for a rather excellent escape mechanism.

_-NoR-_

He could hear people calling him. This time it was his own name.

That was good.

It bounced around his head, overlapping until every individual sound was indistinguishable from each other, growing louder with every echoing shout.

He wished they would stop. He could hear them – no need to scream in his ears.

"Shh…" He mumbled, rolling over. His nose was now pressed uncomfortably into his arm, which was extended across his pillow. Gradually he was realising that his neck was cricked awkwardly, and would probably hurt if he moved it. And why was the sheet so light? It felt filthy, clinging to his sweat-covered body like a parasite. The mattress was too thin – and why was the pillow so firm? Was this his bed at all?

Actually, now that Harry thought about it, it didn't seem very likely that this was his bed. For one thing, he was much too cold. And why would his mother, father, Ethan and Ava be in the Slytherin dorms? It didn't make sense.

And why was he cold?

Why was he shivering?

Why was he scared?

Slowly, he turned his head upward and opened his eyes.

"Harry! You're awake!" It was Ethan speaking. "Madam Pomfrey he really is awake this time!"

Harry seemed to be in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was pushing through, waving her wand and administering potions that he was reluctantly sipping, trying not to spit them out. Beside him, James was looking on in worry, his hand twitching towards his wand. Harry knew he was barely stopping himself from interfering with the nurse's work. Next to him was Harry's mother, looking quite gaunt. In fact, Harry wasn't sure she looked well at all and was proved correct when he heard Madam Pomfrey order her to get back into bed – an order which she grudgingly complied with. She shakily heaved herself onto the adjacent bed, but didn't lie down.

On the other side of his bed were Ethan and Ava. Ava was standing on a chair so that she could see him, and made to hug him as soon as he turned to her, but Madam Pomfrey pushed her away with a tut. Harry didn't want to look at Ethan.

But his eyes wandered over to his brother anyway.

Immediately, Ethan burst out, talking hysterically at a million miles an hour.

"Harry! I'm so sorry! I was so worried when you collapsed, I didn't know what to do. Greengrass, Finchly and I managed to get you to the school but I was so scared and you kept _twitching_. Then Snape found us and he made us drag you to the hospital wing while he went to do something and I don't know what _happened_. Then Dad and Ava came, and you started screaming like you used to in those nightmares and I didn't know what to do – nobody did, Mum's usually there – and it lasts for _hours_, but then she shows up bleeding all over. _Finally _you stop screaming, but we hear that Quirrell's _offed himself_ and Professor Perenelle's fled and Mum's hand is weird and somehow I know it's _all my fault! _And I said that I hate you, but I _don't_ I just said that because sometimes you act so annoying and you called me the Boy-Who-Lived, which I _hate_ cause it makes me think of Snape and-"

Ethan paused to catch his breath. But Harry didn't want to listen. He didn't have time for Ethan. Instead, the events of last night, or rather the events of the _dream_, were fresh in his mind. He had been Voldemort, pulling the strings, _attacking his Mum_…

"Professor Perenelle was the Dark Lord!" He realised suddenly, shocking his family. He turned to Lily, his face pale, begging for something – whether it was denial or agreement he wasn't sure.

"What?" Ethan and James gasped.

Lily didn't move, but her expression spoke volumes.

"He was at _Hogwarts_?" Ethan continued, eyes moving from Harry to Lily and back, as if hoping that they would suddenly burst into laughter, and tell him this was all a joke. They didn't. "He _taught _us? He was a _girl_?"

James was truly baffled at this conversation. He only had a vague idea of who 'Professor Perenelle' was from letters, and had no clue what Lily had to do with all this. And why in the blazes was Voldemort at Hogwarts?

"Okay, what's going on here? I'd like an explanation." He stated, looking firmly between his two sons and wife.

There was a pause, before Lily spoke up.

"I suppose it's me who owes the explanation. I spoke to Dumbledore before, and he's filled in a few of the gaps for me."

She took a breath, trying to figure out what to say. She didn't quite feel comfortable _telling _people things. She hadn't done it in a while.

It was probably a good thing that she was giving it a go now.

And so she began. She told them from the start: that Albus had spent years trying to confirm Voldemort's continued existence, only to fail. He had known that Ethan's attendance at Hogwarts would draw him out of hiding, if only a little extra incentive were added. And he had known that there was no trick the Dark Lord would fall for – there would have to be an element of uncertainty in order for his existence to be revealed.

Nicolas Flamel had offered the stone – but had wanted it destroyed as payment. He believed that he and his wife had become addicted to immortality. He had crafted his own protections over the stone in order to be certain that Dumbledore would let his friend die, and also as the second part of the plan: to destroy any body Voldemort was using and weaken him further, setting back any plans of his own by a couple of years. Voldemort was indeed attracted by this 'offer' of sorts. His possession of Quirrell wasn't powerful, due to the Wizard's poor will, but it had allowed him access to Hogwarts.

Lily went on to explain how Voldemort had come to possess Perenelle and had made an attempt on the stone. That as everyone had trusted that Perenelle wanted to protect the stone from Voldemort, they had told her how to get past the protections. That Harry's strange connection with Voldemort had allowed him to see the robbery as it happened. That it was what had alerted her to its happening. That Dumbledore had come in at the last minute to save the day. That Quirrell had been ordered to kill himself after the ordeal was done.

She didn't tell how much she had known in advance, or Severus' part.

"And now there's no way we can try to pass Harry's dreams off as 'weird remnants' of the attack or Quirrell as just some psychopath." She concluded. "There's no way we can deny it: we must accept that Voldemort is, indeed, alive."

There was silence as she said the words. The thought of the man who was almost the destruction of them all brought fear to their hearts, and even Ava began to soundlessly whimper, while Ethan put a calming hand on her back.

But Harry remembered something.

"He has a body now."

He looked at his mother, wishing that she could tell him that no, some freak accident had caused Voldemort to _lose _his body, and he was now as good as dead – in fact, couldn't he be comatose? Couldn't he be set to sleep for a thousand years?

But no, they weren't that lucky.

"Yes, but Albus says it won't last long. No matter that Perenelle was strong and willing enough for him to possess properly, she isn't as powerful as he once was and possession no matter how strong will eventually destroy the victim, no matter how willing. It's why he needed the stone – to bind himself to the body and perhaps regenerate his own. The only thing we can be thankful for is that Albus believes he will be searching for a body now, not actively gaining followers or restarting the attacks… We're safe, probably, for now."

It wasn't much, but it was something. In fact, it was much better than Harry had been expecting (there was no mention of moving to Quebec and living in isolation for the rest of their lives).

But there was one more thing Lily had to say on the subject.

"Harry, Ethan, you can't tell anyone." Bother boys began to protest that their friends were all incredibly trustworthy, but a _look_ from Lily had their lips zipped. "This is too important. Voldemort and his Death Eaters are _dangerous_ and you never know who could be listening in. Right now, I have the strongest silencing ward I know linked into the Hogwarts wards and I've also had Albus double the strength. Even this is a risk. You will not tell a _soul_."

Lily's voice grew quiet as she finished and both boys nodded cautiously.

She accepted this, knowing that they wouldn't say anything (_and planning to put a block on all the family's knowledge later so that nobody could take it from their minds or let it slip accidentally_). So she laid back on her bed, resting her legs on James' lap, and began to study the stone, which had been retrieved from the palm of her hand relatively easily once the danger had been lifted. That piece of accidental magic had come in handy, but it would have been annoying to live with a hand made of stone.

Although the ramifications of a hand made of that _particular _stone may have been intriguing.

James remained silent, instead turning to study his wife, while Ava was bored and now trotting off to annoy Madam Pomfrey. Which left Harry and Ethan alone to realise that…

Neither of them was particularly angry, or belligerent. Worry and sadness had taken over.

For once, there was no tension in the air.

"Thanks." Harry whispered to his brother. Why had they been fighting in the first place? Perceived insults, angry retorts, opinions based on nothing… It all seemed worthless now. He had spent the majority of the past year wasting away over Ethan… for nothing at all. In hindsight, it all seemed beyond stupid. "For everything."

_Everything: saying sorry, being scared for me, forgiving me, trying to knock some sense into me when I was being a prat, being there, being my brother…_

Ethan smiled tiredly back at him, sad eyes crinkling slightly.

"Yeah, thanks… for everything."

_Everything: saying sorry, not hating me, knowing or believing that I don't hate you, forgiving me, being _you: _as awful as you sometimes were_,_ being my brother…_

And with that, everything was perfect.

_-NoR-_

On the train ride home, Harry and Ethan sat in the same compartment.

Their friends didn't know what to do with themselves: there wasn't quite enough room for all Slytherin, Hufflepuff and most of Gryffindor in one compartment. In the end only Daphne, Draco and Pansy stayed from Slytherin, while Finchly and Susan were the representatives of Hufflepuff. This left Hermione and Dean from Gryffindor.

And so the journey commenced: three Muggleborns, three Purebloods and Three Half-bloods.

The trip was surprisingly pleasant. First, they all introduced themselves. They all knew of each other, of course, but the Gryffindors and Slytherins had rarely spoken outside of insults. Ethan thanked Daphne for talking some sense into Harry, and she became his 'favourite Slytherin' – Harry included, to his amused ire. They spoke about exam marks – nobody was surprised that Granger topped everything, except MSIE. What was shocking was that it had been Harry who had topped MSIE, but knowing what they did about Professor Perenelle, Harry and Ethan weren't too pleased with this. Yet they held their tongues and pretended to be happy about it.

Harry and Ethan had both done well in their classes. Ethan had done better in the theoretical sections – his best mark overall was in astronomy, of all things – he said he found the patterns easy to remember – but Harry had done better in the practical tests. They were surprised to find that they hadn't dismally failed potions – they'd both done rather well. They had even passed their Defence and History exams.

Then again, even Crabbe and Goyle had passed all their exams.

Soon the topics fell to favourite teachers and subjects and the like. Naturally there was a bit of house rivalries, but they kept it to a minimum, finding a shared hatred of Snape to bond over. There was nothing for them to be angry about, as Ravenclaw had won both the Quidditch and House Cup.

Unsurprisingly, everybody skated around the issue of blood, background and prejudice. Nobody wanted to talk about it, and it was understood universally that Harry and Ethan's renewed closeness was a sign that all of these issues were no longer important.

What was important was staying on their friends' good sides.

Harry could tell that Granger was sometimes on the edge of making a comment that may have upset the peace, but she mostly managed to reign herself in for Ethan's sake. Draco, a well-known sufferer of foot-in-mouth disease, was thankfully displaying some tact for once – although that may have been something to do with the fact that Daphne's elbow was brushing over his arm, ready to dig itself in at the slightest sign of idiocy. Also, he had been practicing tact with Finchly for the last term or so.

And so everything was going swimmingly. The topic soon strayed to summer plans, and all agreed that they should meet up at some point – or rather, that Harry and Ethan should have a birthday party that they were invited to.

Ethan and Harry exchanged glances, knowing that figuring out _where _exactly this party would be happening would be difficult. A combination of Lily's paranoia, the opinions of Pureblood supremists, and three sets of Muggle parents made the placing difficult.

"Sorry, but our place is out." Ethan spoke up immediately. "So is Diagon Alley. You've heard what our Mum's like."

"Well then, at one of our places. Unfortunately, the manor wouldn't be a good idea." Draco said. "Father has issues."

There was no need for him to say what those issues were, especially when he gave an apologetic grimace to Justin. Pansy quickly added that her place would be a bad idea for the same reason.

"Sorry, Daphne and Susan," Harry cut in apologetically as he saw the girls were about to speak, rolling his eyes only a little at his mother's restrictions, "but she probably wouldn't be happy with us going to a place with wizards who could potentially want to stalk us or something, either."

There was a mumbled understanding.

"Well," said Draco, nodding slightly at Justin, Dean and Hermione, "I'm sorry but I don't think my parents would let me visit… you guys."

Again, Draco's message to the Muggleborns of the compartment was understood by all.

Harry frowned sympathetically at him and Pansy. "Surely you can work it so that it's for a good cause."

This was a code Harry had learnt during his time in Slytherin. It meant that Draco and Pansy would sell the idea to their parents in a way that sounded like they had 'acceptable' reasons – for example, they wanted to be on good terms with the Boy-Who-Lived, or they were using Hermione's brains.

Draco frowned back. "It'd take a _lot _of effort."

Justin, who had been around the Slytherins for almost half a year, had also picked up on the code.

"My father's… kind of influential in the Muggle world." He offered. "He's a high-ranking politician and businessman – lots of money, lots of friends… Of course it's all Muggle… And my place is kind of huge…"

Harry hadn't known that about Justin. He was instantly intrigued, in fact he could see in his peripheral vision that all his Slytherin friends' heads had suddenly turned straight to the boy. He felt a slight smile come to his face as he asked, "Really?"

The boy suddenly seemed nervous, which was understandable given that all the Slytherins had slightly strange grins on their faces – as if some particularly sweet treat had appeared out of the blue before them, ready for them to devour…

But Justin naïvely battled on; nodding nervously, "Well, yeah… He holds a seat in the House of Lords and he works with various banks…"

He was by now shifting a bit and biting his lip.

Susan's eyes narrowed at the spectacle. She had been around the Slytherins long enough to know how they acted – but was also slightly less naïve.

"Hey, don't you start on Justin. You can't exploit my friend." She said, slightly playfully, but the underlying message to stop acting creepy was easily received. They had the grace to look a bit shameful, but Draco nevertheless drove the joke on.

"It's not exploitation, Bones!" He cried, affronted. "It's a _mutually beneficial business relationship_."

There was a slight pause before they began to crack up laughing. Poor Justin became slightly uncomfortable as he realised what the strange looks had been about, but Harry could tell the Gryffindors (even Granger) found their dastardly Slytherin ways entertaining, at the least. After the laughter died down, Draco considered the proposal seriously.

"Well it'll help on the 'how dare you associate with them' front, but I'm not sure how far it'd go on the going to your house front."

"It seems we have a problem, then." Ethan said with a sigh.

"But hey," Harry continued from him. "We've got a whole month before our birthday to think about it. Ethan and I will keep in contact."

It took a second to realise that the entire compartment was looking at them strangely, and another minute for them to tell what it was about. Finally, Daphne explained:

"Well… you suddenly look so alike… Keep it up and you'll be the next Weasley twins!"

"Never!" Harry and Ethan shouted together, sending them yet again into laughter.

All too soon they were departing, promising to owl each other and that they would find somewhere to meet. On the platform, Harry and Ethan spent an age finding their dad – Lily was at work – and on the way they met various friends and acquaintances who'd wished them a happy holiday, patting them on the back and sending them on their way. By the time they reached James they felt like they'd shaken hands with _at least _two thirds of the station.

And honestly, they didn't care one bit.

_-NoR-_

And so ends Part One! On to Part Two…

I make no promises for my next update. I write when I have inspiration. But if you have to wait longer than two months, the next chapter will be up within a few days. (Or that's what I'm telling myself – so let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best! - _The Chudley Canons_)

Please Review!


	10. Chapter 10: Part Two begins here

Warning: Badly translated Romanian and Slovak. I do not speak either of these languages and am relying completely on Google translate. If you have a better translation, please let me know.

**Title: Nightmares of Reality: Part the Second**

**Author: **Claire (.morbidity)

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Family/Tragedy

**Pairings: **_Probably_ no pairings. I think. A part from the obvious ones – e.g. between married couples. But a** Pairing Warning: **none of the relationships will be nice. They'll probably all come crashing down. The main ones that I've figured out are LE/JP and LE/SS.

In case you were wondering, no: there will not be a Harry/Lily pairing.

**Warnings: **Probably eventual murder, insanity (not the happy kind so prevalent in fanfics: the scary, dark, serious talk with your psychiatrist kind), death, torture, character death, nastiness in general, in this chapter specifically there are possibly horrendous translations and, naturally, some spoilers for the books (oh Merlin, the main character is called Harry!).

So… The rating right now is T. It's quite possible that at some point it will go up to M.

Warning: Badly translated Romanian and Slovak. I do not speak either of these languages and am relying completely on Google translate. If you have a better translation, please let me know.

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to JKR.

**Extended Summary: **The Potters were living the dream: they had two powerful sons, one beautiful daughter and a public ready to bow to their every whim. Lily works, while James cares for their twin sons and daughter. Ethan, their son, killed Voldemort but he has grown up a sweet child, away from all the media. The life of the Potters is truly a dream come true. But Harry's dreams aren't the happy kind.

**Notes: **Warning: Badly translated Romanian and Slovak. I do not speak either of these languages and am relying completely on Google translate. If you have a better translation, please let me know. I know I'm saying this a lot, but I want to make sure it's clear and so I'm copy and pasting it all over the author's notes – which I'm sure many people never bother reading.

And here's Part Two! I'm very excited for this arc. And this chapter, which completely went where I _didn't _expect it to go, but oh well…

Thanks for the Reviews. I really appreciate it when you take the time and effort to give me feedback. It means a lot to me.

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

**Part the Second: Chapter 1**

**Vampire to Teach at Hogwarts**

The appointment of the Vampire Sanguini to the post of Professor of Magical Society and Its Environment (MSIE) at Hogwarts has Magical Beings' Rights' Activists everywhere celebrating – but is equality worth endangering our children?

Delaney Davis

_Yesterday Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, etc. announced on behalf of the Hogwarts Board of Governors his latest appointment to the staff as Professor of 'MSIE'. The subject was first introduced to the curriculum last year, and so far its success has been questionable due to the untimely death of Nicolas Flamel, its first teacher, over Christmas break, and the second teacher's disappearance at the end of the school year (Perenelle Flamel is now assumed dead). The subject itself was introduced in support of the recent popularity of activism for the Rights of Magical Beings, of which Albus Dumbledore is a well-known supporter. And so it should have been expected that the new professor of MSIE would be, in fact, a vampire._

_The Vampire Sanguini has appeared in public on many occasions, often accompanied by his reportedly close friend, the author, Eldred Worple. Over the past two years they have campaigned for the Rights of Vampires, alongside other controversial political figures such as Remus Lupin (werewolf, co-owner of Black Lawyers), Sirius Black (co-owner of Black Lawyers), Albus Dumbledore, Halfrida Humphfrey (hag) and most recently Ulger (goblin). It is due to their protests for equality that MSIE is now a subject at Hogwarts, the curriculum last being changed in 1889 with the abolition of the Dark Arts and the inclusion of 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' due to the anti-Dark movement of the time; and also that the recent invention of the 'Wolfsbane Potion' by Damocles Belby is now being distributed to all sufferers of 'little furry problems'._

_Next year the children of Hogwarts will have the opportunity to learn what life is truly like for a vampire. But is this worth the risk?_

_It must be noted that as a vampire, Sanguini has an insatiable urge to drink human blood. He reports that for all his forty-eight years as a vampire he has been trying to cure himself of this addiction, and that the help of his dear friend 'Eldred' has been invaluable, however he refuses to talk about past kills and just how far along the path of a 'vampire' he has travelled. When questioned he quickly changed the subject to how much he is going to enjoy teaching the children at Hogwarts._

_Is this vampire truly as 'safe' as we've heard? Can we trust our children's wellbeing to this dangerous creature?_

_Only time will tell._

"Well, at least she saved the prejudice for the _end _of the article."

Sirius harrumphed, ignoring his friend's assessment in favour of glaring a hole into the paper.

"You know, it's not going to burst into flames, no matter how much you give it the evil eye."

Sirius shot him a filthy look, before turning back to the paper and pulling out his wand.

Remus quickly pulled out his own.

"No, Sirius, that's _my_ copy, dammit! I'm not going out there again to buy _another_, just because you were offended by some silly article."

Remus didn't pay attention to Sirius' grumblings as he flipped through the pages. He would be lying if he said he didn't think it should be burnt – it deserved it. Not only had their article been demoted to the third page when they had requested the front, the first and 'most important' news was that Gilderoy Lockhart was releasing his new book: Fighting the Fromage, third in the celebrity chef's series: Defence Against Dinner. It was slightly humiliating to be considered more trivial than _that_.

"How's Eldred say Gini's holding up?" He asked with a sigh. Sanguini (or Gini) was the shyest of their little band of protesters. No vampire liked a crowd and Gini, who had never been outgoing as a human, was downright terrified of people. He tended to latch onto Eldred like a worm, and only for the past month had he been comfortable around Sirius and Remus. Convincing him to teach had been a migraine and a half, and he had only been soothed with the knowledge that Eldred would be doing most of the teaching: his job was stand in the classroom and look harmless.

"Not well, of course." Sirius, calm now, was staring listlessly at the other parchment in his hand – the letter from Eldred. "He says he's having a panic attack – won't stop speaking Romanian. Why couldn't 'Frida teach again?"

"Apart from the fact that she's scarier than all of us put together?"

'Scary' was too kind a word for Halfrida the Hag, and terrifying didn't cover it by half. Hags, like vampires, were a solitary lot. But while the vampires' need for seclusion came about from their fear of witches and wizards, hags kept to themselves because of their ghastly appearance. While vampires liked to live in groups of two or three, hags lived by themselves. It was a self-imposed exile, although it was often helped along by the poor parents who had birthed the ugly thing. Those who didn't ended up in places such as Knockturn Alley, begging for food and selling their own toenails.

Halfrida, however, was a special case. Both her parents were blind due to a curse placed on them by a vengeful wizard (the wizard himself was deaf and partially blind and had thought them to be the witch and wizard who had cursed him). To them, Halfrida was the most beautiful girl in the world – not matter how disgusting her voice sounded. When it came time for her to go to Hogwarts she decided to remain at home in order to help and care for them, and although the people she met sometimes called her a horrific freak of nature she could not have cared less about their opinions. She only realised after her parents died and she had gone to get a job what she was – and she had been disgusted by the prejudice she faced and so used the money her parents left her to begin campaigning for the rights of hags. Even now, eighty-seven years on, she had not ceased for a day.

However perhaps the scariest thing about 'Frida wasn't her voice or her appearance. It was her dedication and determination. She would have turned the students into a quivering mess by the end of the first week, which was not beneficial on the 'hags are nice' front.

"Any other news?" Remus asked, twirling his quill as he tried to think of what to write. He was trying to write a letter to a client who hadn't written or contacted them at all for a week, which was vaguely disturbing as the hearing was due in a month.

"No – oh, wait, Prongs wants us to watch the kids for the day – apparently he and Lily and spending a day together." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Are we free to watch them?"

Remus tapped twice on his desk and a planner flew up from under a tower of papers, diaries and the like. Their assistant would be away for another week and the pile of unfiled _things _was verging on ridiculous. It would be a relief beyond compare when Dora returned.

"I don't _think _so. We haven't written anything in for the past week, so I can't be sure, but it doesn't look like we've got much more than work planned for today. Certainly no rallies that I know about."

Sirius grinned.

"I'll floo over right away."

_-NoR-_

Every now and then James and Lily would decide to spend the day alone. On those (admittedly rare) occasions, Harry and his siblings would be shunted off to whichever family friend was able to take them. So he was quite accustomed to the sensation of standing in front of the fireplace beside Ethan and Ava, clutching a bag of activities for the three of them, waiting for the green light to signal the arrive of his pseudo-godfather, Sirius Black.

They waited in silence, although Ava was squirming in Ethan's arms. Their parents had already left to some Muggle town on the eastern coast of Spain. Harry fidgeted with the bag's overly lacy handle – the bag was Ava's, magically expanded to suit their needs.

Harry glanced up at the family portrait Remus had commissioned as a Christmas present for the family the year before. When he'd come home for the holidays he'd found it to be even more spectacular than the photograph he'd seen. They were all wearing their best clothes, Harry and Ethan standing together at the front, Lily and James behind them, James holding Ava. As Harry watched, Lily winked at him, and he and Ethan started nudging each other, James stopping them before it could turn into an all-out brawl. Harry smiled a little, but any further amusement was siphoned away by the thought of what was to become of him, and his siblings, for the day.

Sirius and Remus were great – all of their 'babysitters' were, all things considered. But every 'babysitter' had their own drawbacks. Aunt Bathilda had many a story to tell. Unfortunately she was a very old lady who had trouble keeping three young children entertained. When they went to the Lovegoods' place they were always sure to be entertained, however sometimes their battiness was overwhelming. The problem with Sirius and Remus was that they had a lot of work to do, and very little time to do it in.

When Sirius and Remus took care of them, they may as well have been at home.

So it was with half-fake smiles that they greeted Sirius and stepped into the fireplace. He didn't seem to sense their mood. He gave a cheery 'hello!' before launching into a story about how glad he was to see them and how boring work was – as if they didn't know already.

Upon their arrival at Black Lawyers co. they were welcomed by an equally cheerful Remus.

"Hello Ethan, Harry, Ava. You look different every time I see you!"

It was a joke between the friends of the Potters. Of course the siblings looked different – Lily wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry bobbed his head in reply, trying not to act like he had recently been confirmed a long-term patient at St Mungos. Ava managed a 'hi' before she almost slipped from Ethan's arms and he had to pause in his own greeting to heave her up onto his hip.

"You're getting too big for this." He muttered to her, causing Harry to smirk a bit – that was exactly why he always chose to carry the bag, rather than the sister.

They shuffled into the head office of Black Lawyers to find that nothing had changed form their last visit; the only difference being the impossibly tall tower of papers in the centre of the desk – a sure sign that Tonks was away. Tonks was Sirius' cousin, or more accurately she was the daughter of his cousin Andromeda. She'd started being sent by her mother during the summer to help Siri and Remi in the office and they'd set her to work organising various files and keeping track of their schedule… By the time she was sixteen they were paying her and once she'd left school she had become indispensable. Her absence was easily noticeable in not only the room but also in the running of the entire organisation, and not just due to the lack of fluorescent hair.

Harry and his siblings stood in the centre of the room as Sirius conjured some chairs for them to sit at, on the other side of the desk. However a flashing parchment in _the pile _caught his attention and he hastily removed it, glancing at it in horror.

"You've all had breakfast, right?" Sirius questioned when he looked up, but he looked anxious about whatever was in the document so Harry simply nodded and began taking out Ava's colouring set as Ethan helped her to a seat between them. It was a process they were well familiar with, however this time Harry and Ethan would not be wasting away their time reading books and generally being unproductive: this time, they had schoolwork. Harry reached in again to the bag, bringing out quills, parchment, ink and books.

"What d'you feel like?" He mumbled, half whispered, to Ethan. There was something about the office – or perhaps the looks of hard concentration on Remi and Siri's faces as they scribbled notes and wrote speeches or whatever it was they did – that made both Harry and Ethan extremely conscious of how loud their voice sounded.

"Astronomy. I can't be bothered with anything harder right now." Ethan returned, taking the offered books and utensils.

"Yeah – I'm doing charms." Harry said, taking out _Magical Theory_ and _A Standard Book of Spells_. Charms theory was decidedly easier than the theory work for some of the other subjects they did – transfiguration and potions being the most notable. There was a possibility that Defence could have some difficult theory work as well, but Harry wouldn't know – Quirrell hadn't been a very good teacher. Even less so in that he had for half the year been possessed by the Dark Lord Voldemort, and had killed himself before he had decided on the summer assignments. Unfortunately their other Dark Lord-possessed Professor, Professor Perenelle, hadn't been so kind. In fact she had made sure to grade their exams _and _set holiday work before she had gone to steal the stone. Or rather, Voldemort had done so. Neither Harry nor Ethan was in any hurry to begin on the MSIE homework.

Harry had barely written the introduction when he began to feel a twitch coming on. Doing homework was bad enough, but in such deathly silence it was horrible. Half an hour later, he was begging for distraction. A sentence later he laid down his quill, giving up the effort entirely. Thankfully, Sirius seemed to have the same problem.

"I didn't get much of a chance to talk to you last time we came over, Harry. How are you? How're your friends – Daphne? Justin?" Sirius whispered, as if to prove that he had indeed paid attention to Harry's letters throughout the year. Remus, Ava and Ethan continued to be absorbed in their tasks, so Harry answered, also in whisper.

"I'm fine. They're all great. Daphne's great. So is Finchly." Harry had been receiving letters once every two or three days from Daphne, who was determined to keep him updated on every exciting day of her holiday in Venice. Harry had been responding with interest. Finchly's letters hadn't been quite so frequent, but nevertheless Harry was very well informed about the new puppy the family had adopted – a terrier named Georgina. He was constantly bemoaning the fact that he couldn't bring her with him to Hogwarts, sending both Daphne and Harry (the recipients of his whining) into tears of exasperation. From his other friends Harry had received at least two letters each (it had been two weeks since the beginning of the holidays) and had even received a short note from Granger.

"Finchly wants to take his dog to school." Harry added, knowing Sirius would appreciate the sentiment.

Sirius smirked. "Poor kid. Hogwarts needs more dogs."

"Hogwarts _has _nodogs." Harry replied.

"You're wrong. Hagrid, the groundskeeper, has Fang… And next year, Remus and I are thinking about visiting every now and then…"

"Really? Why?" He asked, wincing shortly after as his words came out a bit too loudly. Glancing around, however, the other three in the room hadn't been disturbed.

"Silencing charm." Sirius said in explanation. However he still did not raise his voice – the atmosphere of the room did not allow for bellowing. "As for why we'll be dropping in, well, next year that MSIE project of ours," Harry flinched a little at the reminder of the dreaded subject and its professor, but Sirius didn't notice, "is being taken up a notch. Eldred – Eldred Worple, you've met him before, he works with us – is becoming the professor, with Gini – Sanguini the vampire – as his assistant. So we'll be coming through occasionally to check on them. No one will mind if we pop by occasionally."

Harry felt a grin rise to his face. "That'd be great – but wait, Sanguini the vampire? We're getting a _vampire _professor?"

Sirius matched his grin. Harry felt like laughing. He'd only ever met Sanguini once at Sirius' work, but it had been enough to begin a slight fascination with the species on Harry's part – the aura of mystery, the drinking of blood… Having Sanguini as a teacher at Hogwarts… "That's gonna be _brilliant_."

"You tell that to the Daily Prophet." Sirius said gloomily, turning to stare at the page in front of him again.

But the words sparked an idea in Harry.

"Could we?"

Sirius looked up, seemingly baffled, so Harry continued. He wasn't quite sure were he was going with this, but if it helped Siri and Remi then he was fine with it.

"Could Ethan and I talk to the Daily Prophet?" He clarified. "Tell them how much we like the idea of a vampire teaching us. I mean we're the Potter twins. Ethan's the Boy-Who-Lived. Surely that counts for something."

For a second Sirius looked thrilled. But then he frowned. "No. Lily would never forgive us and I couldn't exploit you two like that. It's bad enough how much publicity we get from your family _without _us feeding the flames. And do you really want to be stared at more than you already are?"

"But it's for a good cause, right? I mean, we're trying to bring equality to our society and all that. Isn't that good? And it's not exploitation if we _want _to help."

But Sirius shook his head.

"No. It's not that simple, Harry. You're too young to understand what's going on."

Harry was about to protest, but Sirius stopped him.

"No, Harry, _I _know you understand. It's just that the public will see us and think we are making you do this without really understanding what you're saying. And to a certain extent they're right. You haven't got to the stage where you're forming your own opinions – right now all your beliefs are your parents and ours. It's not right for _you _or Ethan if we sit you in front of some reporter and tell you what to say. But come a few years… Well, who knows? I'm sure we could work something out. Maybe you could even come protesting with us." He said light-heartedly. Unfortunately at this point Remus was taking down the silencing charm.

"Sirius?" He was frowning at him. "Surely you didn't mean-"

"Not now!" Sirius said quickly. "I meant in a few years time – when they're old enough to know what they're doing."

"Hmm…" Remus replied. "But in any case, we were thinking about heading off to have an early lunch. Ethan is apparently 'quite hungry' while Ava is 'starving' – something tells me _somebody _didn't eat all their breakfast." He turned a teasing smile to the squirming girl.

Looking around, Harry saw that indeed Ava and Ethan had stopped what they were doing. Ava had made her way through almost the entire colouring book – her drawings disturbingly neat when Harry thought back to his own pictures at that age, and even now – and Ethan had finished his astronomy essay and had begun herbology.

"That sounds fine – we're going to the muggle world, I take it?" Sirius asked, glancing at the Potter siblings.

"Yes, I would think so." Remus replied. "How about-"

Whatever Remus had been about to say was lost as the ugliest woman in existence entered the room. Her hair was thin, grey and scraggily, coming down to about her shoulders. Her ears were huge and almost as grey as her hair and her face was covered in wrinkles and spots. As she walked she hobbled a bit, her hunched back preventing her from walking. The list of features went on. Harry shivered a little upon seeing her. He'd seen her image in the paper, of course, and on the front of their copy of '_Hags without Gags'_, her autobiography, but he had never seen her in real life. Honestly, he wished he hadn't.

"'Frida?" Remus asked, perplexed.

"Remus." She gasped, her voice wheezing. "There's no time. There's a group of vampires in Slovakia requesting a portkey here. The Ministry here is uncertain, but they've been kicking up a fight and everyone's being sent over – you're lucky I heard about this and managed to nab you this portkey. It leaves in a minute. Quickly."

She tossed Remus what looked like a miniature red cushion.

"But the children-" Remus said.

"I'll look after them." She replied. "There's no time. Give the girl here."

A surprisingly docile Ava clambered into the hag's arms, who looked quite shocked at the attitude as well. Hags were not well known for their babysitting abilities. But there was no time to ponder that as Sirius and Remus rushed around the room, trying to find everything they'd need for the impromptu trip to Slovakia – wherever that was.

"Harry, Ethan, I'm sorry we have to cut this short, but we've really got to go. We'll make it up to you-"

Several things happened at once.

Firstly, Sirius tripped on the leg of his chair. This may not have been terrible in of itself, however it sent him careening into Remus, sending the portkey flying.

At the same time, Ethan was bending to put their astronomy book away in their bag, as neither needed it at the moment.

As he did this, the portkey went soaring over his head, straight into Harry's waiting arms.

It began to flash blue. Everyone was screaming at Harry to drop it.

His fingers began to release it.

Ethan stood up, unaware of what was happening.

His hand brushed the portkey.

The two boys disappeared in a flash of blue.

_-NoR-_

A sickness-inducing journey later and Harry and Ethan arrived, sprawled, on a forest floor, somewhere in Slovakia.

Harry groaned into the grass. He had landed on top of the root of some tree and his elbow had hit at a strange angle. He was sure to get a bruise.

Off in the distance, he could hear the twittering of birds and some crickets and possibly – in the distance… People of some sort?

"What happened?" Ethan wondered. It was rhetorical, but Harry answered anyway.

"We took a portkey to Slovakia." It took a few seconds before the thought settled in. "We took a _portkey_ to _Slovakia_! Ethan, what do we _do_?"

Harry scrambled upright, using the roots of the tree as leverage. Ethan, however, remained where he was.

"Don't care." He moaned. "Leave me alone."

"Do you understand what I'm saying? We're in Slovakia! I don't even know where that _is_? What's going to happen to us? Will people find us? Will we get back? How far away is Slovakia? Ethan, we're in _Slovakia_!"

Harry was pacing now. He and his family had never been big on travelling. Sure, they'd been to a few places in Europe: Germany, France, Spain and so on, but they'd never been so far without their parents. And they'd never been as far as _Slovakia_. Wherever that was.

"I think it's up near Russia." Ethan said, knowing what was on his twin's mind.

"Is that far from home?" Harry had never been one for geography. But then, neither had Ethan. Their parents had never bothered to make sure they learned much of it. After all, all a wizard didn't need to know where a place was to go there. Now both boys were wishing they had payed more attention to the atlases.

"I… don't think so?" Ethan's voice was uncertain. Almost as if he was saying the words just to make sure Harry wouldn't become ever more worried. Unfortunately, that wasn't happening.

"Okay, let's think about this logically." Harry said, partially to himself, partially to Ethan, who was still lying facedown on the ground. "Logically. Remus and Sirius were meaning to take this portkey here. That means that they'll know where we are. Which means that soon enough, they'll be here. They just need to go to the Ministry, track down another portkey, _and make _another portkey… And then they'll be here. And then they'll send us home. And that will be that. No more Slovakia."

Harry continued his mumblings, pacing around the tree they had landed upon, until he fell completely silent, thinking and listening to the sounds of the forest.

But something didn't sound right.

"Ethan… Can you hear that?"

Something in his tone must have made Ethan weary because he slowly sat up, also listening out.

"What are we listening for?" He whispered.

Harry didn't say anything. The noise was getting louder. It was hard to see anything through the dense layer of trees, but he thought he could hear…

"People – a person is coming. They're running…"

Suddenly, a man shot into view.

"FOC! FOC!"

Harry turned to Ethan, completely mystified as to what was going on. But a sense of foreboding was beginning to creep inside. Whatever it was, this could not be good.

"FUGI! Ce faci? Fugi! Foc!" The man made a shooing action. It was then that Harry noticed that his skin was very pale – almost white. Was he sick? Or could he be-

"Slovacă?" The man seemed to realise that they weren't comprehending. "Beh! Beh! Horí! Beh!"

"Uh… English?" Harry asked. Beside him, he saw Ethan get up, cautious of what was to come.

The man's eyes widened in enlightenment. But he wasted no time in screaming in dreadfully accented English:

"RUN! RUN! FIRE!"

Harry felt his eyes widen. He felt the man grab him by the shoulder and push him slightly. Quickly he clutched onto Ethan's arm and pulled him, both boys breaking into a sprint.

Everywhere was a blur. The trees, the roots, the otherwise beautiful scenery… He hurtled over some poor dead mammal without sparing it a glance. Suddenly there were rocks up ahead. The three changed paths, heading right, hoping beyond hope that there would be a way out.

At one point, Harry happened to glance to his left and thought he saw a fang hanging from the strange man, or vampire's, lips. He almost said something, but then he realised that at that moment he should be focusing on running away from the blaze that had the man so terrified, not wondering about the strange man.

In the distance, Harry could hear the crackles of flames. It was too close. They were done for.

"You know anything?" Harry panted at Ethan.

Ethan shook his head slightly. His face was very red.

"No – you?"

Harry thought for a second.

"Not for something this big."

But suddenly the man turned to them.

"You know magic?" He asked. "Has stick?"

There was no time to argue. Harry reached into his pocket and retrieved his wand, practically flinging it at the vampire.

The man grabbed it greedily. Harry felt a slightly strange turn in his stomach at the sight of the other wizard holding his wand, but pushed it aside as the man shouted some spells at them. Harry felt a mild tickling sensation run over his body, but otherwise the spells didn't appear to have had any affects at all.

"Here." He said, sounding sad. "Take wand. Now I die. You no die."

He had stopped running. Harry and Ethan stopped too.

"What?" Ethan said. "You can't give up now. You've got to keep going. We can make it." He sounded close to tears.

"No. I die. You safe now."

"Come on!" Harry said. "You've got to run! You said there's a fire. You're a vampire, aren't you? Vampires _always _die in fires. You've got to run!"

Harry could feel the heat rising, not just from the running.

"Da. Un vampir. I die. Now you run no need I stay."

"What?" Harry wasn't sure if it had been he or Ethan who had said it. Maybe both of them.

"I stay. You stay. I die. You no die."

"That's not how it works."

But the vampire was not to be deterred.

"Da. You safe now."

There was nothing more to be said. The fire was upon them.

Harry felt like screaming, but he was strangely numb. In fact the flames seemed to tickle. He had the peculiar urge to laugh, but felt that he would throw up at the sound of it so wisely kept quiet. He gasped as he saw that Ethan didn't seem to be burning. But he was watching the vampire in horror. With dread, Harry turned to see what his brother was watching so intently.

He was shrivelling up. The skin going first, blackening in the flames. The hair was on fire, though Harry found he couldn't smell it as one normally would. He was bleeding, a red, sticky mess seeping through black crevices like lava. Then the eyeballs caught on fire and Harry found he could watch no more.

At that point Harry hit the ground and noticed nothing else at all.

_-NoR-_

When Harry woke up he was in a bed of some sort. That was good, he decided. Even though it was certainly not a bed he'd ever slept in before and it was rather small, it was good that he was in a bed. It was also rather good that Ethan was in the bed too, even if it made things rather squishy. It meant that Ethan was alive and well.

That was always good.

Opening his eyes, Harry could see that the house they were in was falling apart. There were cracks in the roof and walls, and cobwebs congregated in the corners. The windows were too filthy to see anything through but a distant light.

Nevertheless, it was better than he could have expected.

He wriggled slightly under the sheets, trying to sit up and at the same time not wake his brother. Thankfully, Ethan was already awake; otherwise the attempt probably would have resulted in failure.

"He didn't know us."

Harry knew immediately who Ethan meant. Who else could he mean but the vampire who had given his life for them? Had he not stopped and told them about the fire, then ran at their pace to make sure the two of them made it through, he might have lived. Even if after he'd cast the spells, whatever they were, he could have run, but he'd stayed to make sure that they'd lived. When he'd taken Harry's wand he could have probably apparated away or _something_. But he'd chosen to make sure they survived.

"We didn't know him, either." Harry said in return. But he didn't want to think about the vampire any longer. The memories were burning.

"Where are we?"

Ethan didn't answer, but at that point voices sounded nearby. It was hard to make them out, but Harry thought he could just hear…

"I want to see my _son_ and if you do not move in three seconds, I will…"

Harry wasted no time in leaping out of the bed, fighting the dizzy spell that threatened to overtake him as he made his way to the door. He could hear Ethan do the same, only seconds behind him.

"Mum!" Harry launched himself at her, feeling Ethan do the same. The silly lady who'd been blocking them was probably quite shocked that they were up and about, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care.

"Are we in England now?" He had to ask, but before she could answer, Ethan blurted out:

"Mum, I want to go home!"

Lily hugged them for a second, before she answered them.

"No, Harry, right now we're still in Slovakia. And don't worry, we're going home as soon as this _business_ is all cleared up."

She was about to say more, but Harry interrupted her.

"And where's Dad? And Ava? And where are Siri and Remi?"

She released them from her clutches and Harry noticed that she wasn't as disguised as usual – but then, they weren't as famous, or infamous in Lily's case, overseas, and so they never needed to pretend as much, which was a perk of going abroad.

"Everyone is here except Ava – apparently she and 'Frida took a liking to each other." She smiled gently at the thought. Harry shuddered at the thought of the woman being invited over for tea, possibly with Aunt Bathilda and Mrs Longbottom, all at the same time. Harry didn't think he'd be able to stand that luncheon.

"Well, if you're all better," She received emphatic nods, "then we can get going."

They all ignored the nurse who had been trying to stop Lily from entering, and walked away, the two boys each grasping an arm with both hands.

"I understand how you ended up in the forest in Slovakia, but nobody knows how you ended up on a forest floor after a fire with lingering effects of a Flame-Freezing Charm, and another for a fresh supply of oxygen." She told them as they walked, quite obviously fishing for answers.

Harry didn't answer, but let Ethan explain how they'd landed in the forest and waited before the man – vampire – had come running and had attempted to explain that there was a fire, before eventually running with them and using Harry's wand to cast the spells that had saved them.

"That fire wasn't natural, was it?" Harry asked suddenly, cutting off the end of Ethan's explanation before the worst could come. Ethan paused in his step, but Lily didn't miss a beat.

"What makes you think that?" She asked.

They turned a corner and Harry let go of her arm with one hand and pointed at a large open space covered in blackness and charred grass, towards which they were walking. It was outside an International Portkey dealer and on from that point the indications of the fire only grew. Smoke and ash filled the air, making it slightly hard to breath. Lily hastily cast a charm over them, one Harry was sure the vampire had cast, and the filthy air was gone as soon as it had arrived.

"That. There were vampires here, trying to get a portkey to England. But they weren't allowed. Somebody must have started the fire…"

Harry trailed off. There was more to the story than that, he was sure.

Ethan continued.

"And our vampire escaped. That's what he was running away from. But why did they start the fire? Who did it?"

Lily answered.

"It was the portkey dealer, of course. He was drunk and threatened to set them on fire if they didn't just leave. He wasn't serious with his threat, but some of the vampires took it as such and so started threatening the public. 'Your vampire', as you put it, didn't join in and managed to escape the first blaze. However, a few minutes later he sent out a second blaze so as to chase him down. In doing so not only did he kill three Muggles and a Wizarding child; he destroyed much property, slaughtered at least five vampires and almost did the same to you. Suffice to say, he's been put under arrest."

As they made their way into the open space Harry and Ethan caught sight of James, along with Siri and Remi. Harry barely registered that they were talking with another person among a throng of various Ministry officials before he was running towards his father.

"Dad! You came!" Harry said, although it may have been muffled as he said it with his head pressed into his father's robes, but it must have come alright because James responded.

"Of course I came."

"Harry, Ethan I'm so glad you're both fine." Remus said desperately. "It's terrible what happened, I'm so _incredibly _sorry, if there's anything-"

"Shush, Moony. They came out fine, that's all that matters." James said, but Remus would not be stopped. Neither, for that matter, would Sirius.

"Moony's right, Prongs. You charged us with looking after these two and we landed them in a fire in Slovakia. You should blame us-"

"Let's not talk about this now, Padfoot." Lily cut in. "They're safe, and that's all that matters." She rested a delicate hand on a shoulder of each of her sons', ending the topic.

"Now, if you could tell us where the nearest portkey is…" She continued.

Harry glanced over at the International Portkey dealer's place. It was completely wrecked. Unless somebody else around this place could make portkeys, they were doomed.

"Excuse me." The witch who James, Sirius and Remus had been speaking to coughed politely. She was holding a quill and a clipboard, now that Harry noticed it. A clipboard that said the Daily Prophet. Harry's idea from before, when Sirius had spoken to him, slipped into his mind. "Would you like to continue? Where do the Potter boys come into this?"

Harry saw the opportunity for what it was: golden.

"Ethan and I accidentally portkeyed here." He spoke up, not letting anyone else get a word in edgewise. "And then, before we know it there's this man running towards us, telling us to flee. Except he's shouting it in all these different languages we don't understand, but finally he starts speaking English and we run…"

"Can you describe the man for me?" She asked, both of them ignoring Sirius' warning looks.

"He was tall. I thought he seemed really pale – at first I thought he might be sick, but then I realised that he must be a vampire! Later, while we were running, I even saw his teeth."

The woman gasped. "You saw his teeth? Did he attack you?"

Harry could see around him that the various Ministry officials – and possibly just some bystanders – were stopping what they were doing to listen to him. He had to ignore them – had to. He had to do this. For Siri and Remi. The best godfathers he had.

"Of course not, he was just biting his lip as he ran. He wasn't interested in attacking us – he'd just proved that by saving us from the fire! In fact, he stayed with us the whole way. He was much faster than us and he would have been fine if he'd just gone one, but," Harry hiccoughed slightly, stumbling between the words, "He didn't want to. And then I asked Ethan if he knew any spells and he realised we were wizards. So he asked for my wand-"

"And you gave it to him?" The woman looked horrified, as did the crowd. There were collective mutters – they didn't sound happy. "But what if he'd attacked you? Or run away with it?"

"It wouldn't have made a difference." Harry shrugged. "So I gave it to him and he cast these charms that saved us. Then, then he gave me back my wand… And the fire came."

He choked slightly as he said the words, but he refused to let the emotions show on his face. He would be strong.

"He could have cast the charms and then used the wand to escape, I'm sure." He continued, wanting to get his point across. "But he didn't. He didn't know us. We didn't know him."

Harry grabbed his brother's hand. Ethan held on tight.

"His name was Teodor." An elderly wizard wearing Ministry robes spoke up from the crowd.

"Teodor." Harry heard Ethan whisper.

All were silent and still. Off in the distance, Harry could here the rumblings of thunder and the chirping of birds, but here all was peaceful, as if in offering to Teodor.

The reporter woman broke this silence with practiced ease.

"And Ethan, I can call you Ethan, right, what are your views on the rights of Magical Beings?"

Abruptly, Harry realised that not much of what he'd said would actually get into the paper, or if it did it would come under Ethan's name. Instead it would be filled with the stuttered ramblings of his brother, quite put on the spot. Because really, when the people stared, Harry took comfort in the knowledge that really they were staring at his brother and so he had nothing to worry about. Unfortunately Ethan didn't have someone to pass his unwanted attention to.

The downside for Harry was that he could never take that attention when he wanted it.

"When we get home," he heard Lily whisper in his ear, "You're both learning the Flame-Freezing and Bubble-Head charms, as well as a few defences from vampires."

Harry nodded, knowing there was no point arguing with his mother. Not to mention he could imagine the charms coming in handy – he really wanted to learn the Flame-Freezing Charm after today. And he also wouldn't mind figuring out where Slovakia was – it felt a bit too hot to be anywhere near Russia. But then, Russia was kind of big and was near a lot of countries – it was even near America. He would find out another day. Merlin knew he had enough of those things.

Catching Siri's eye, he moved over to his pseudo-godfather.

"I was right." He said in a not-quite-singsong voice.

"No, not quite, Harry." Sirius stated gravely, a frown creasing his brow. "See what's happening with Ethan – they're like leeches. This is what I wanted to protect you from. I didn't mind the story – that was fine, that was _news_. This, however, is an interview about your brother's opinions of things I didn't understand until I was much older: politics, social justice… It's all just words now. But now he's become a spokesperson for us they won't let him change his mind… And if he does it'll bring ruin to us. It would have been better if you'd kept your mouth shut." He finished with a growl.

Harry opened his mouth, hurt. He'd done this for Siri. This was supposed to help him help change peoples' opinions…

"Sorry, that was a bit harsh. I just don't want this blowing up in your face, kid. I'm thankful for what you've done, don't get me wrong, I just don't want you to get hurt… You've had enough of that today… Look, are _you _sure there's nothing I can do to make it up to you? Prongs and Lily say no, but I want to hear it from you."

Harry shook his head. He couldn't think of anything… Unless…

"Siri, Ethan and I are thinking of having some friends over, but we can't have them to our place, obviously…"

Sirius laughed. "Well, you can't have my flat, if that's what you're asking."

Harry shook his head. "No, I was thinking… Grimmauld Place."

Sirius' eyes widened as he thought over it. Harry could almost see the cogs turning in his head: Remus hadn't used Grimmauld in a long while, mainly because with the invention of Wolfsbane there was no need for any property to get destroyed once a month when he transformed. It wouldn't take long to fix everything up, get it in a state fit for Harry and Ethan's party, and what's more the protections on the property were so extensive that even Lily couldn't argue. It was in London: easy access for Muggleborns, and it was an old pureblood house, which was good in the purebloods' books. In other words, now that Harry thought about it, it was perfect. All he needed was for Sirius to agree.

"It'll need a bit of a touch-up… What sort of get-together are you hosting?" He asked, curious.

"Sort of a birthday party. More like an excuse for out two groups of friends to see each other." Harry said.

"Friends at a birthday party – isn't that a bit Muggle?" Sirius asked. "For your pureblood friends, I mean. That Draco Malfoy you're friends with is Narcissa's boy and if I know my cousin she wouldn't let her son go to something so full of Muggle tradition."

Harry nodded. "As I said, it's mainly an excuse to meet up. It was Granger who suggested it – and she was quite shocked at the idea of a birthday party _without _friends. But you know nowadays everyone invites their closest friends – it's saying they're part of the family. So really its quite flattering to receive an invitation – especially to the Boy-Who-Lived's birthday." He finished with a roll of his eyes.

"And as much as Narcissa hates Muggles, Lucius will love the power it brings." Sirius nodded as if it all made sense.

"So… Can we?" Harry asked, biting his lip nervously.

"Of course! Remus and I will spend next Sunday fiddling and it'll be ready by the 31st… Now… we'll hire someone's house elf for food; I wouldn't trust Kreacher…" Sirius rambled off, making plans for the party, and Harry couldn't help the excitement rising in him. Hearing Siri talk about it like this… Suddenly the party seemed closer than he'd thought.

However, a rumbling in his stomach caught his attention.

"Siri…" Harry interrupted his godfather.

"Yes?" He asked.

Harry paused, unsure how to phrase it delicately.

"I'm kinda hungry. Can we get some lunch?"

Sirius let out a barking laugh.

"Sure. Hey – Moony, Prongs, Lily… the kid's hungry. How 'bout we leave this," he gestured at poor Ethan, still stuck between the ministry and the reporter, "And go get something to eat."

Upon hearing this, Ethan almost leapt two feet off the ground.

"Yes!" He almost pleaded. "I'm starving. Can we get some food?"

His father laughed. "Sure. Lunch is right this way."

And the family walked off, leaving a baffled public behind them.

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

_-NoR-_

**1.** Well, **Part2, Chapter1 complete**: what do you think? Also, I would like to say that I do indeed know where Slovakia is (not near Russia at all) and I chose it because the group of vampires there were Romanians who had crossed through the Ukraine into Slovakia because portkey laws were slightly more lax than in their own countries. I have never been to Slovakia and don't have a clue what it's like, however please remember that I am talking about magical Slovakia, not actual Slovakia. Just like when I talk about Draco holidaying in Luxembourg I'm talking about a magical Luxembourg.

**2.** If anyone has any better translations, please let me know, however _**Google translate**_ says that:  
><em>In Romanian:<em>  
>Foc=Fire<br>Fugi=Run  
>Ce faci?=What are you doing?<br>_In Slovak:_  
>Horí=Fire<br>Beh=Run

I do not claim to be an expert on this. I can honestly say I have no clue if this is true and please let me know if it's not so I can correct it.

**3. **I have edited chapter one. No major changes, except there are now no mentions of dream magic (it was a spur-of-the-moment idea to put it in in the first place) and a few explanations have been cleared up.

**4. **Finally, not a clue when the next chapter will be out. Please review and criticise!


End file.
